LOST
by PanicButton
Summary: Follow up to Private Hell: Still existing in their own nightmares how do the team cope working together when again one of their own goes missing.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lost

**A Prologue**

_The devil's voice is sweet to hear: - Stephen King_

**A/N: One again something I needed to do…..next chapter the fic starts properly….thank you….please R&R **

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

As a whole.

The team as a whole.

Working together as always you wouldn't have known.

Yet each had moved on. Each was stuck in the same place.

As a team they were whole.

Individually they were broken. Shattered. Destroyed on the inside.

-o-o-o-

EMILY

I never understood before now exactly what it was like to be, well I suppose you could say 'normal' – and yes I will emphasise that word with my nicotined stained finger, and obviously the one which isn't.

Normal – such an easy word to say and such a difficult thing to be.

It used to come to me naturally. My mother. She showed me normality. She was – still is – the queen of everything perfect. And I probably assumed that perfection – mother's perfection was normal.

But it was false. That was a front. Her form of compartmentalising which may have worked a charm for her and I suspect still does – but for me it was wrong. I guess I must take after my father in that respect.

Once my internal barriers had been ripped apart and destroyed by someone – something – events – I was able to see that little girl again for a while. That one which never could relax around other people because she had to be that perfection my mother insisted upon, but back in the summers when the grass was long and mother was busy or even away and my mind was free – back then I was me. I was able to run and play and climb trees. Hey – I even broke an arm falling from that big old thing way back down the end of the garden. I thought the nanny was going to explode with panic. But it wasn't her fault.

Back on those balmy summer days I would sneak out by crawling through a gap out the back. Under the tree roots and slipping my skinny body under the barriers in my garden and in my head.

I would walk in my now very dirty dress down to the railway. There was a bridge going over the river. A railway bridge, but I would time it right. I knew the times of the trains and when I knew I had a gap of over half an hour I would walk out there and lean over the guard rails at the side and watch the water – wondering what it would be like to be as free as the river.

Excuse me.

I'm rambling on. The thoughts in my head are mixed. Not filed neatly away in special places. Information is there and just as easy to find. It's colour coded. I can't be doing with compartments anymore.

What I am trying to say is though, that I feel like I am that little girl again. I am leaning over the edge once more wondering what it would be like to be as free as a river.

-o-o-o-

AARON

Love comes in many forms. I love my job. I think I probably love my job more than anything which makes me feel bad, but he will understand. Haley never will – she's woman, and they don't understand. Jack will. Maybe not now. Maybe not for a long time, but one day when he is sitting there behind his desk and the work is piling up and his wife has called and asked why he late for dinner – again – I am hoping then that he will realise that this is just what comes of having the fantastic Hotchner genes.

My father.

Not a nice man. A cruel man. He was abusive in so many ways. I would try to protect little Sean, but it didn't always work.

My mother.

A woman. Weak and not to be trusted. Moaning constantly and at the time I didn't realise why. Behind those closed doors late at night when we heard the cries coming from her room – were they cries of love or fear? It really isn't something you are going to ask – now is it?

My brother.

A free spirit. Free of the Hotchner genes somehow, and now I wonder if that is because he never had a chance to have them in the first place. I laugh sometimes at the thought that my mother – gentle mother who would never say 'boo' to a ghost – daring to have an affair – but we all do things we don't expect. It just sort of happens.

Spencer.

It wasn't planned.

I was hot and sweaty after a long case and went down to where we can have a nice cooling off shower. Someone was in there already and so I sat on the bench and waited. I didn't want whoever it was to see the bruises I had on my ribs from the kicking I had managed to get that day. My ribs were sore and I needed to inspect them properly.

And so I sat and waited – and that was the first time. He walked out of the shower block with a towel wrapped loosely around him. He was holding the white fluffy garment with one hand and pushing hair off his face with the other.

I could see the pale – oh so delicately pale flesh – white almost pure white where his hip bone stuck out maybe a bit too far from his skinny frame. I knew Reid was on the slender side, but this was the first time I had seen that line of ribs and that hip bone.

He looked shocked to see me waiting, and I just smiled at him. One of the few people I have ever openly smiled at. Well apart from my family. There was not an exchange of words – there didn't have to be. He turned and opened his locker door. I could see the line of knobbles running down his skinny back and the temptation to get up and run my finger down his spine was almost completely over powering.

He looked like a skinny high school kid. And this man was their genius profiler. I would have to say something to Gideon the next day. I would have to say something like 'good job on finding the kid' Just something. It was a good job - I showered down there often after that and so did Spencer. I never once joined him. It didn't feel right. I was afraid my body would betray how I was feeling, but a few times, times when we had been having a very bad day…sometimes that towel slipped a bit too low and on those days all my hours of listening to his hands moving over his body were worth it.

Jack.

A tiny bit of me.

Hopefully he won't have the same childhood experiences I was put through. An only child. For now.

Someone I need to protect and love, but my job? Can I do both? Can I love him more? I don't know – I don't know – maybe that faulty gene again. I can love my family and I can love them so much it hurts and yet I will continue to neglect them because my other half – this driven motivated person will insist on neglecting those I love.

Or putting them in danger.

Or refusing to hear their cries for help.

Maybe I am better off with nothing outside my job.

Maybe I'm better off without Jack being close to me in my life.

And Spencer.

-o-o-o-

SPENCER

I really would rather be dead than living this false existence.

There is nothing of me left anymore. The Spencer I had known all my life seems to have gone. I passed my psych eval and it was laughable at how easy it was. Almost as though they knew I would cheat and so didn't even try.

I don't cheat on purpose. But it's hard you know – for me – when you are asked a question and you know the real answer, not to just say it. It's so much easier than the truth. How do I tell them that I want to die – and expect to keep my job?

Every night is the same. I get home from work and I will sit or curl up somewhere dark and I will wish that there was a way that I could stop living like this. A half existence.

I want to take it out on someone. I want to hurt someone the way I am hurting, but only once have I raised my fist to Ardal, and though I personally felt nothing at the time and though the sight of his blood didn't alarm me I could see the pain on his face. The emotional pain.

I still go to see him, but not as often as I did.

But when this feeling inside of me gets too great I will call him and drive over there. I will park my car in the side street and walk in through the big doors at the bottom of his apartment block and I will take the elevator up to his floor and usually I will stand out side his room and lean my forehead on the door and place my sweaty palms on the wood next to my head and wish that one day – maybe today it will turn out differently.

Here's the crazy thing.

I take drugs.

I'm not addicted to them because they absolutely nothing to me. I can snort cocaine until my nose falls off, and maybe it will, but it has not effect, it might as well be talcum powder for all the effect it has on me.

I inject heroin into my arms, and between my toes. Huge vile obscene amounts at first to try to kill myself and now just to be able to feel something. I have considered behind the eye. Closer to the brain. Maybe today? I have regular blood tests done at work. They saw little marks on my skin. Hardly anything. Old track marks – except they to me were new. There is always nothing….I am always clean.

I cut.

Not like that once when I wanted to take my arm off, but small nicks along my arms with anything I can get my hands on. Nothing. Sometimes a tiny amount of blood but otherwise nothing.

I need a stake through the heart or a silver bullet.

I used to wonder why Floyd was so embittered with the world and now I know. To know that this is it. There is nothing else. And there is nothing I can do about it, and no one would understand.

The nose bleeds.

The excruciatingly bad headaches.

They are the only way I know I still exist.

It's late now.

I need to get ready.

I don't sleep anymore. Those days are gone too. I don't know when I last tucked myself up in bed and slept. Though this means no night mares which is the only – the real one and only thing I find which is good.

Time. I know…It's time.

I will kneel on the floor and wait until the alarm goes off. I will attempt to close my mind down and hope that tomorrow I will be able to kill myself.

-o-o-o-

PENELOPE

Life is too short to sit on my butt all day waiting for it to come to me.

I've gone out and grabbed the bull by the horns, metaphorically speaking – and yes I've changed. Life was good…but now it's better.

Kevin.

As sweet as he was. A darling. A completely wonderful person.

Well…after watching those tapes for days on end – you know it kind of does something to a girl. A girl who was a bit of a swinger in the first place and if I never see another male body part again in my life it will be too soon – if you get my drift here.

Nor am I the cute stay at home type with a pinny and baking cookies for the girl scouts. So my best friend – she and I we party.

Spencer. I can hardly look at him. This seems to have changed him in such a deep unsettling way. On the surface he is still the same. Same funny clothes and same face and eyes – but his soul has gone. He knows what I saw and though he has never said anything I know he hates me for it. He avoids me. That's OK I wouldn't know what to say to him anyway. I don't know how to pull him back to the fold. I wish I did, but I'm gone too.

Derek – the games we play. We still play them. We are still friends, but we both know it will never go further. It's just to give him a bit of light relief doing the shitty job he does, because it is crap talking to victims and trying to be sympathetic to the parents of a serial killer or child rapist. He manages it. He is a fantastic person and my support, but will never be my lover.

I sit and stare blankly at my screens and dread the day I am told. 'Garcia look through these.'

A girl can only cope with so much death and destruction. Look at Prentiss. Look at Elle. It gets us all in the end. It just took me longer because I have the shield of the computer. I can say to myself. 'It's just pictures' I don't have to smell it or touch it or inspect it too closely.

Time to go. I have a date.

Take care.

-o-o-o-

DAVE

Obviously things changed. You can't go through that amount of trauma and come out the other side unchanged. My fear with the team was that they seemed to be living in their own heads too much. Too often I see them just standing or sitting as though some dreadful thought or image had locked them into place. I've known Aaron a long time and I can see that knock after knock is slowly changing him. Life does that. But he is different. I would like to say that he has closed down and become cold – but he was never one to give off the warm vibes to his team anyway. Loved as he is.

Me though – how has this effected me?

I know – I think I know what some of these people are going through. All of us victims. I tried to get my head around the cause of it all.

It wasn't Floyd. It wasn't Taki – I don't know what it was. An explosive mixture. Seeing the ones we love/rely upon crumble before our eyes. Emily smiles more now. I've notice that. It's almost as though this whole situation did her good. Except for the smoking. Odd that she didn't look the type and yet now I can't imagine her not being a smoker.

Derek Morgan. He was saved from a lot of what happened and I suppose I was too until recently but that changed. You hear things you know which change how you look at someone. I listened to closely and I heard too much but that's not really the point is it? I spend as much time out with my dogs – out hunting – and sometimes I take someone with me, but that is rare. I like the seclusion of me and my dogs and whatever we catch. A symbiosis and it holds me together. Like Rosie is holding Aaron together – like the smoking is holding Prentiss together. At least we have something. I don't think we all have that.

I guess I got off lightly.

I guess I wasn't a victim.

Not this time anyway.

-o-o-o-

FLOYD

I really don't know what it is you want me to admit to….

This is a confession isn't it?

Somewhere to release our inner most thoughts and let rip?

I have no innermost thoughts anymore….it's all out here on the surface for all to see. I do love him. I think that is what this feeling inside of me is. Much like how I feel on the rare occasion I get to see my Rosa – which has been too long. Far too long.

Crap parent.

Crap lover.

Crap at my job.

Crap all round really, but I haven't taken it back yet. I need to talk to him and explain what I did and I know he will hate me for it, and in a way I don't want it back. I am enjoying this new sensation. Vulnerability – is that the correct word? I'm not sure that I am really enjoying that part of it but to know that I could if I wanted - end.

Stop.

Go back to the river….but then I don't know if I could cross it. She would tell me to climb back and be the good guy and that's just not what I am. I tried. For a whole day I tried. I even washed – but it didn't last, cos the good guy washed off in the shower. I flushed him away and all that is left is this raw thing under the surface slowly trying to get out.

Nothing is as easy now. My left hand doesn't work properly. I have a slight limp from the damage Pa gave me – but I am still the same person/being whatever it is I am now. My 'superpowers' gone… well not all of them, but some – and I will get it back.

I feel that knotting in my stomach when I think of the look on his face when I tell him. I gave him immortality. How will he feel when I take it away? Should I just rip it from him like I did before in my stupid panic or should I gradually remove it? Should I tell him what I am doing? I haven't seen him. I've tried calling but when he picks up I find I have nothing to say.

Rossi.

He is a strange one. I don't know what he wants from me. He asks me constant questions. We meet up for drinks occasionally. He even took me hunting a few times, and I don't know why.

I know I've changed.

I know I don't like what I am now.

I know I am just as good in that dark alley way as I ever was, and I know I give better than I've ever got.

Ardal.

I have him regularly. I take him hard and want to say to him. 'Tell Spence that I miss him.' but I can't.

And so I am sitting here thinking now. Is it time to take back what I gave? Should I go and see Spence and explain to him what I did for him? Will he listen to me?

I think I'll go and do that now.

18x

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	2. Chapter 2 Missing

Chapter 2

Missing

_The excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value: -__Charles Dudley Warner_

**A/N: very slight inferred noncon/slash**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

A child had been taken.

A vile crime. Taken for money they assumed.

The family who had come from money. Wealth on both sides – were clumsy with their offspring. The mother an artist and the father who would spend his time watching old black and white movies. Mostly silent ones on an old projector. Gideon would have appreciated this passion more than Hotch did. The child though – a strange little boy with hair too long and a smile always on his face was left to roam the vast halls of the unique castle like home he lived in.

And then one day Sam was gone. The nanny came to find her in her studio, which was in fact a big glass roofed room at the top of their home and announced in her stiff British accent.

"I can't find Sam. I've looked everywhere."

Mrs Trent-Saviour looked over her shoulder at nanny Lopez. "Well look again. He never goes far."

"Ma'm – it's been all day. I can't find him. He would have come down for lunch. He never misses his lunch."

Mrs Trent-Saviour put down her brush and wiped her hands on the front of her artists overall. "All day? And you are telling me now at – what the hell time is it?"

"It's nine in the evening Ma'm."

"And does my husband know that you have mislaid the heir to our fortune?"

Nanny Lopez swallowed and slowly shook her head. "He still has do not disturb on the door ma'm."

"I'll give him do not disturb!" She pulled off her overall to reveal a long net and lace red party dress underneath with a pair of Wellington boots.

The police were called.

They requested the help from the FBI when a ransom note appeared.

'we have Sam'

Written in the child's handwriting. The 'S' was back to front.

Sam was ten.

-o-o-o-

Reid stood looking down at the bit of paper inside the evidence bag. "I have compared this with other handwriting of his and it is the same. I was bothered at first at the er – the depth – the – pressure – the pressure he had used on the pencil." Reid put the note down and scratched his chin. "but looking at his other writing it seems normal for him. He always mirrors his 'S'. Very immature for a child of ten. Almost as though he is writing with the wrong leading hand. But yes, this is his handwriting."

Morgan wanted to know how the message had been delivered.

Hotch sighed and put another plastic evidence bag on the table…It held a screwed up and partially burnt envelope. "The father threw it away before he had read the contents. As far as can be ascertained there are no fingerprints and it was self sealing. Nothing there at all. It's been printed from a basic ink jet printer which can be found in almost any home in the State. The post mark was destroyed."

"And this child has had no formal education? Can he use a computer? Do we know if he has a printer available to him?"

Prentiss spoke to Reid without looking a him. "What are you suggesting? That this is the boy's doing?"

"A very intelligent child with no formal up education – left to run wild in his home – massive as it is – It was just a thought." He slipped his hands into the pocket of his brown cords hoping to hide the sudden shaking he could feel working it's way through his body. He bit down on his bottom lip and concentrated trying to remove it….push it back. "If you will excuse me." He muttered and pulling hands back out of his pockets he wrapped his arms tightly around him and left the conference room almost at a run.

That was ok.

He did that sometimes. A bit too often for Hotch's liking and a bit too often for Rossi's. The two man glanced at each other but neither said anything. As long as Reid could keep himself together that was all they needed. No miracles expected here.

-o-o-o-

He stood in the men's room and leaned on the cold tiles. He could feel the cold through his light brown patterned shirt. He put his hands out in front of him and watched the shaking. A furrowed his brow concentrating on them. Trying to force them to stop this stupid behaviour. He was sure that the others – that lot – the people who used to be his friends and now won't even look at him – he was sure they thought it was drug related. Maybe it was – maybe that was what was happening here, but how was it he was getting the bad symptoms and not the wonderful rush – or – hey even the death – he was looking for. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm and then placed his hands on the tiles behind him. Palms first – and tried to stop this feeling. He could feel his heart beating too fast and his breathing coming in short and sharp. He could feel a band of pressure around his brain squeezing tightly.

Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes and stood with his feet together and wanted to scream. Although he never seemed to need to sleep there was a deep down right in the pit of his soul tiredness and it was this which he needed respite from. It made his eyes water and his knees shake. He wanted to curl up and lay in the shadows of a cubicle and just close his eyes and be nothing.

It was Morgan who came in to look for him. Someone always did in the end. They couldn't just leave him.

"You OK there kiddo?"

He could only just hear Morgan's voice over the thumping of his own heart and the ragged breathing. He tried to nod, but it didn't quite work.

"Anything I can get you? Sit – sit down you look like you're gonna pass out." He put a supportive hand on Reid's arm. "Let me help you Reid. You don't have to go through this alone."

He kept his eyes closed as he talked. Reid didn't think he could open them without giving away some secret from deep inside of him. His soul – his damaged soul – or see how fast his heart was beating in his chest. "Go through what Morgan? You have no idea what I am going through." But he allowed the hand to guide him until he was sitting on the floor. He could feel the wonderful cooling of the floor tiles through his cords. He wanted to take off his shoes and socks and let his feet suck up this comfort, because he knew it wouldn't last long – but he had marks on his feet. He couldn't let Morgan see that. Not yet another batch of tests and questions and more tests.

"If you would confide in me. It will go no further than me – Reid – you are like a kid brother to me and this is hurting me too."

"And the moment I say something – something – that you consider – well – that you don't like you will report me? You will tell Hotch or Rossi." He opened his eyes and gave Morgan the briefest of glances before looking away again. He hoped Derek caught the pain in his eyes. He hoped he did because that was all he was able to give him.

Morgan shuffled his position so that he was sitting on the floor next to Reid rather than in front of him. He placed an arm around the younger man's shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer and give him some comfort but Spencer was resistant. He allowed the contact, but that was all. "It's that bad? What you have racing around in your mind right now is so bad you can't tell me?"

And all Spencer wanted right now was to stick a needle in his vein and hear the skin break and watch as he slowly destroyed himself, even if he couldn't feel it. Even if he got no pleasure from it.

"It's not that I can't tell you. It's that I don't want to. You know – kinda private." And now he pulled away from Morgan's attempt at comfort. It felt suffocating and uncomfortable. He pulled his knees up wrapped his arms around his legs. "I will be alright. Just give me a minute."

"Are you still seeing a counsellor?"

"I have talked until my mouth bled. There is nothing more to say."

"Reid…………"

He cut him off. "and now you want to give me a headache? Can't you just leave me alone?"

"I can partially understand what you are going through."

Spencer suddenly stood up. He was still shaking but now he didn't care if Morgan saw. "Partially understand? What part do you understand Derek? Because unless I am being very stupid I don't think you have the first idea of what is going on in my head."

Morgan quickly got to his feet too. "Hey hey whoah there….don't take it out on me. I'm trying to help you."

"I never asked for your help! Leave me. Now – leave me now." And he meant it. He had an over powering need to hit this man who though he knew what it was like. Because he had been abused as a child he thought he knew how he felt.

"You're pathetic!" Reid suddenly screamed at him. "I don't want you near me – and I don't want you touching me!" Morgan was backing off with his hands raised calmly in front of him.

"I won't touch you. What the hell is this all about though."

"You! You and them – probing and watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. Well there! Are you happy?!"

The door behind Derek swung open and in marched the cavalry. Though whose colours they were wearing wasn't obvious.

Rossi asked Derek to leave and he did – though reluctantly. Hotch waited until the door was shut again and just stood watching Reid who was pacing in a small circle.

"We could hear you shouting out in the bullpen."

"Yes – well he was in my face."

"This is difficult case Reid. If I can't have your full attention on it I would rather you went home and thought about what the hell is going on with you."

Spencer stopped pacing and looked at Hotch and then at Rossi. "Fine. See you later then." He put a hand on Hotch's shoulder to push him out of the way. A hand was placed over his.

"Reid….."

"No…I don't want to talk about it because you wouldn't understand. That's the end of it. Please don't ask me again and please – don't touch me."

-o-o-o-

And this was why he was at home during the day. Again pacing the room wondering what to do. Ardal would be out whoring, he would be no good and he couldn't risk going somewhere else. He had to wait.

He tried to read but his eyes wouldn't stay on the page. He turned on the computer but the gentle hum of the fan sounded like a helicopter living behind his forehead.

So he was standing motionless in the middle of the apartment when the buzzer went from downstairs.

"Now what?" He was almost at a run to get to the buzzer. Just so that they didn't make that noise again….that noise which shot through his head.

"What?" He snapped.

"It's Garcia. I have some ice cream for you."

In the name of everything cursable – ice cream? He pressed the buzzer. However annoying this interruption was he always found turning Garcia away difficult. He leaned on the door and waited for her two knocks. Always two.

Spencer could feel that hot sweaty shaking feeling coming on again as the knocks sounded. He couldn't let her in. Her voice would kill him. He colours would kill him! He could see familiar swirling colours out of the corners of his eyes which he tried to ignore as his sweaty finger slid over the door lock and then he tried again.

He opened it with the off but not enough room for her to come in.

"Spencer." She could see there was something very wrong. "Is this a bad time?" She understood. She could see.

He nodded slowly.

"You can always just tell me know when I hit the buzzer. You can't offend me." She handed him a bag with ice cream. "If you ever need anything…"

He wanted to nod but he couldn't. It would have turned his brain to mush if he moved it like that. He waited until she turned her back again before he closed the door and dropped the bag on the floor. He stood for less than a minute when again the two knocks. She was back…A message. A lecture. He didn't know what, but she knew he was here so no point in ignoring it.

With a sigh he turned and pulled open the door.

It wasn't who he expected.

"I need to talk to you."

Reid's eyes went big at the sight of Floyd standing there. "I have nothing to say."

"Good. Let me in and shut up so I can talk." Floyd was leaning heavily on the door preventing Spencer from closing it again.

"Get away from the door Floyd. I don't want you in here."

But he found him self slowly moving back and letting the man he never wanted to see again into his apartment. He stood and watched Floyd slam the door and lock it before turning to him.

"I need to explain something to you."

Spencer started to back away. Floyd had a strange look in his eyes. He didn't like what he was seeing. "What do you want."

"Smoke. I need a smoke."

"You didn't come here for a smoke." Spencer watched with curiosity as Floyd still standing by the door pulled out a smoke and then his thin silver lighter. He lit up and inhaled and then smiled at Reid.

"You might want to sit down Spence. I don't know how long this is going to take." Floyd was still leaning on the door.

"Can I get you a coffee? Anything else?" A step towards the kitchen.

"No babes….don't worry – Spence this is serious I need to talk…"

"You said – but you haven't said anything yet. Are you going to stand there or come in?"

Floyd looked down towards the lounge and did an almost half smile. "I'm fine here Spence. I need it back babes. I'm sorry."

Reid frowned. "Need what back?" He watched the hot ash fall onto his floor and remembered the time Floyd had scrubbed it until his hands were bleeding.

"I think you are well aware of what I am talking about. I'm crippled Spence. I'm not healing. I need it back. I need to be able to heal. I need to get rid of this continual pain. I need to be able to be me again. This isn't me." Indicating him self. "I can't keep on like this babes. I'm sorry. I thought you know – being able to top myself would be good – would be a relief, but I still can't do it. A demonic trap Spence. Can't die with – and can't die without."

Spencer turned his back on Floyd and walked to the lounge. He sat on his favourite squishy leather chair and looked at nothing.

Slowly and painfully Floyd followed. He flopped down into Reid's couch and leaned forwards resting his hands on his knees. "I will take it back in bits. I don't expect you to have to cope with it's sudden loss."

"Shut up Floyd – just shut up. I'm thinking." Spencer closed his eyes and tipped his head back and took a deep breath. "You have messed with me too many times Floyd. Why should I trust you?"

"Because you have no choice. I will take it one way or the other. But I need to explain some things first."

"Explain some things. Listen to me Floyd. You drugged me. You raped me and then you rejected me. And now you come here and say you want to take back this 'thing'?"

"Yep – that's about it, but I need to explain first because it will have consequences. You cut – you take drugs – you have unprotected sex – you put yourself in dangerous situations."

Reid just stared at him.

"You see if I take it back again you will feel those drugs Spence and they will be in your system, and drugs tests will pick them up. You will stop metabolising them. You will be able to catch diseases off the whore you fuck and those dangerous situations babes…will be dangerous."

"So why don't you just take it from me Floyd. Why have you come here to tell me all this. You don't care for me. You never have cared for me, so why this act, this little game. What are you after?"

Floyd lit up again ignoring the face Reid pulled at him over it. "Babes – if I rip it straight from you it will hurt. It will give you seizures. You might even die of the sudden shock. I don't want to do that to you. I want to take it back slowly. Look at me. I need to heal."

Reid stood up. "So you are threatening me. Give back this whatever it is in bits or you will hurt me?"

"That's not really what I meant." A deep drag and watching Reid pacing the floor.

"Take it then – take it in bits – what's stopping you."

"Well babes – basically – to put it bluntly – you are."

Spencer spun on him. "Stop calling me babes – how am I stopping you?"

"I need to have you to take it back in bits you see – and you uh – look disinclined to let me fuck your brains out tonight."

"How right you are there Floyd. I am very disinclined. You stink. You revolt me. I thought I had gone over this with you already."

Floyd stood up. "You know something Spencer. I don't much like you with this attitude. I would rather have Ardal. At least he has manners."

It was all Floyd needed. Spencer was on him with speed, but no so much that Floyd wasn't ready for him. The quick grab and smack with his head on Spencer's nose had him sliding to the ground before he could even think about smacking Floyd.

"I'm sorry babes. I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to let me do this, but hey….looks like I'm going to have to do it like this. Not the first time and believe me – it wont be the last."

He was gentle.

He really didn't want to hurt him anymore than he had to – and he had to a little bit. He couldn't avoid biting into that soft skin. He had missed it so much it made his mouth water.

Floyd licked away the blood on Reid's face and ran his tongue over his still lips – though even in his unconscious state he was responding in many ways which was going to make this far more pleasurable for Floyd than it would Reid.

It took a while. Slipping bit by bit away from him. He watched carefully for signs of shock of withdrawals, but there was nothing. Spencer just lay there. Even when he was awake he just lay there and let Floyd take it all back again.

He watched the pain behind Reid's eyes and the realisation that Floyd was actually freeing him.

"I'm sorry." Spencer muttered and ran fingers through Floyd's hair.

"It's OK babes. We can all fuck up sometimes."

And he lay there responding happily to what Floyd was offering in exchange and planned how he was going to kill himself.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3 Family

Chapter 3

Family

_I lit a wooden match; I let it all burn down. I've broken every rule; I've wrecked it all down. There are no words in the wind, the trees are all bare. Life's mean as a needle; but why should I care?: - Tom Waits_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

He had been left laying on the lounge floor.

Floyd was sitting on the couch again.

He had stood for a while just looking at him and then with a sigh and sat down and crossed his legs – still awkward with the brace still on his foot. He lit a stinking home rolled smoke and let the ash drop on his lap and just watched Reid laying on the floor.

Spencer could feel something. At last he could feel. It hurt. It hurt so much that he wanted to curl up into a ball and howl and cry and beg to have 'it' back again. He didn't want to have to cope with all of this on his own. He couldn't cope with all of this on his own. But he wasn't sure if it was Floyd he wanted or not.

He could smell the familiar stench of Floyd's smoke drifting over him and he wondered why he was still here. Why wouldn't he go away so that he could go to the bathroom and finish this completely. End it. Stop it now before it reached a point that they – those people out there watching and monitoring and listening and waiting for his mistakes – to realise what it was he was yearning for and made it impossible for him to do.

They would stop him. He knew they would stop him.

He looked at the patterns forming slowly on the ceiling and as they drifted down towards him like colourful – too bright – snakes, he reached out to them and could feel them wrapping themselves around his arms and sneaking their little faces under his skin.

Flies

Everywhere flies.

And ants.

Crawling over him and inside him and up and under his eyelids and pausing only for the tiniest of moments before they went in his ears and under his clothing.

The itching.

The terrible insane itching.

Spencer tried to get up off the floor to get away from the insects but they were holding him down. Like in Gulliver's Travel's they throw lines as thin as spiders webs and held him to the floor.

He wanted to roll onto his side.

He needed to vomit.

Spencer could feel the rising of everything he had eaten and drunk over the course of his lifetime trying to escape up the tubes full of ants leading from his stomach to his mouth.

It came out in a spurt of French fries and burgers and corn and peas. He could see the potato faces his mother would pack sometimes in his lunch box and he could see candy and sugar and it floated to the ceiling and joined up with the snakes.

Jelly beans and beef jerky.

CASHEWS!

Fortunately he could still move his arms….even if he was tied to the floor surrounded by regurgitated foodstuffs. He could still scratch and scratch and dig in his nails deep into his skin so there was an escape. Somewhere for the little creatures to go.

"Spence!"

A voice was calling him from a long, long way off. Too far off for him to care, but he was rolling.

Rolling down a hill?

A steep hill with nothing to stop him falling over the edge.

He could taste blood and vomit and there were hands on him and a voice calling him. "Spence! Stop it for fucks sake!"

And something was shaking him. Violently shaking him and making him drool. Spencer closed his eyes and waited for it to go away and as he drifted into a strange distorted darkness he could feel someone holding him and trying to hold his hands and stop him scratching….

And scratching…

And tearing….

And ripping.

-o-o-o-

Floyd sat and watched Reid's body trying to cope with the sudden changes inside. All the pain and residue drugs riding through his system…It was when he started to choke that Floyd finally moved and helped him. He pulled him over onto his side as he vomited food and blood onto the floor in a big foaming pink and lumpy mess. His fingers clawed and his skin on his arms and stomach. It looked like he was trying to slide his fingers under his skin to get something or find something. The howling and cries of pain though, that was what was hurting. Not his ears but his spirit.

He sat on the floor in the mess Spencer was making and held his hands which were damp with the gods only knew what and Reid tried to wriggle them out of his hands but he twisted his fingers between Reid's and held on tightly.

"Babes – I wish I could have made this easier for you."

He didn't get a coherent answer – just more garbled noises which carried on for as long as the writhing and wriggling on the floor. His hair stuck to his head in a slimy sticky mess…bloody trickling from his nose and an occasional 'POP' as a bubble burst in his ear. He had bit his tongue, or maybe it was the inside of his cheek, Floyd couldn't tell but there were tiny bits of blood gathering around the small gap between his lips.

Oh god those lips.

Floyd ran a finger across those slightly parted lips. He had missed them…He hadn't realised how much he had missed that mouth, but since Reid had been a child he had been watching and wanting that – and now seeing them like this – wet – and bloodied.

Floyd's stomach did that strange knotting turning falling feeling which he was assuming was love – or lust – he wasn't sure.

He lay down next to Spencer who had stopped twitching for now, but he thought it would start up again later. He lay in the vomit and blood and other piss and sweat and just needed this person so much that it made his head spin. He needed to be part of him. He needed to bond. Properly bond. Forever bond.

-o-o-o-

ARDAL

Oh so you are asking me now about all this shit?

I wondered when you would get to me. Not part of the team. Not one of you lot so I suppose I don't count really do I?

People like me aren't meant to have long lives you know…we are the short lived but brightly burning flames in life.

You want to know how I feel and how I fit into all of this shit? Well I am a typical really. You know the sort who was abused by his parents…sold to his relatives by his father and it seemed – you know – normal. Hell it was normal. That was all I knew and as no one else talked about it I guessed it was just one of those things you never talk about….like taking a dump.

They chucked me out when I was fourteen. They were bored with me. I was too old for them. They had moved onto Megan, my cousin by them. Sick fucks. I had nothing but what I was standing in and so did the only thing I knew how to do – I whored myself out. Easy. I was pretty and basically clean – as in no diseases. Not that I know of anyway. This is how I got involved in the drugs.

They take away the pain.

Sleeping rough hurts. You get sores on your skin, your joins ache in the winter. You get thrown out of places cos you stink and look like you're going to nick something – which obviously you were. Do they realise what you had to do to get enough money for a coffee and a plate of pancakes? Do they know? I doubt it.

Homeless shelters. They are damned useful too. They help a lot but you cant live there. They're not home. They don't offer security.

Then there is a guy – tall blond bloke and he's in a Lexus and he pulls up next to me and asks me how much for a blow and I tell him and he laughs and tells me to get in the car.

Mistake. I know – I know. Stupid, but it was winter and the car looked warm. So yeah –

I do what he asks of me and he gives me the cash I wanted and then says he knows where I can earn more. That I have a good mouth.

HAHA did you see that….I mention – mouth – and I lick my lips…

Anyway

He tells me he can take me somewhere where they will look after me and I will have a room to stay in and I will be trained properly and even if I do good get drugs.

I jumped at it.

That's how I met Gert.

Now I am back here. They thought they were freeing me. They thought they were doing me good, but now I have to screw filth to get enough money to pay for this hole I live in. I can hardly afford to get money to turn on the electric let alone my comfort.

This is where Spencer still pays a big part in my life.

No – I'm not using him. It's mutual. We use each other. I give him what he wants and he gives me money to get what I need. I'm not whoring for it – it's just something he likes to do for me and then it means he has somewhere safe he can come and get his stuff. Sometimes he stays the night.

I've seen him do crazy stuff you know. He has a death wish. When he goes I will too. I can't live without my Spencer. Without my drugs and whoring…which ever it is – I don't know really..

But it's like you know – if you've always had sugar in your coffee…you will find it pretty disgusting to drink without, and vice versa.

And so that's me.

The only person I screw under my rotting roof is Spencer. I never bring anyone home.

Is that it?

Can I go now?

-o-o-o-

They searched the 'house'.

It couldn't really be called a house. It was far more than that. The actual building was over many floors upwards and downwards. There were secret and non secret passages everywhere. Rooms which could only be gotten to via strange doors in odd places. Behind the bookshelves – under the kitchen sink. Out in the summer house was a passage that lead down to some underground caves. The place was stupidly vast.

They had men and dogs. If Sam was here and hiding they would find him. Maybe.

The parents stood around. The mother still in the same red dress with her makeup smudged like wet oil paints down her face and rubbing her feet together making her boot squeak. Her husband.

Jules Trent. He stood just over six foot. It looked like he cut his own hair. It was very short at the back and sides and long and strangely floppy and wavy on the top and front. He was constantly pushing hair out of his face and away from this horn rimmed glasses. His eyes were big and green and his clothes strangely out dated for a man probably in his mid thirties.

They didn't look at each other… They didn't comfort each other… they glared off into their own worlds of worry and wondered if their darling would have done something like this.

The one called Rossi wanted to talk to her – Amber – and so she squeaked in her boots to the library and left her husband behind staring at a drawing on the wall.

She sat down without invitation – after all it was her house – upon the green leather armchair. She kindly indicated the over stuffed by ancient couch for Rossi – who had noted the covering of dust everywhere in this room. The library wasn't used very often though the multitude of books stood proudly on the oaken shelving.

Amber Trent-Saviour crossed her legs and swung the free foot back and forth.

"So what did you want to talk to me about which you could say out there?" She jabbed over her shoulder with her thumb but kept her eyes on the man who was slowly sinking into the couch opposite her.

Rossi smiled at the woman who looked like a painting left out in the rain and spoke in a flat disinterested voice. "I would like to know about your relationship with your son."

"Oh…well he is uh – we have picnics on the lawn you know – when it's hot – when the grass is long. I get lemonade made and we sit in the grass and he talks to me about stuff. He's a very bright boy you know."

"Yet you don't send him to school?"

A little giggle. "Sam? Go to school? You are funny Agent Rossi – why would I send him to school? There is everything he needs right here. He doesn't need anything else."

"Talk to me about his friends."

A dismissive wave of the hand. "Who the hell needs friends in this world? I don't. Jules doesn't. Sam doesn't."

"Does he have any social contact with anyone apart from youself and your husband and nanny Lopez?"

"The cook – the people who clean – I expect he talks to them. He will talk to anyone. He is vulnerable. He had problems knowing things like that."

"Who to trust?"

A shake of the head. "No – who is socially acceptable. I don't like him chatting to the hired help. Nanny Lopez is different…and cook…but the others, I have to tell him not to talk to them. People Agent Rossi, they cannot be trusted."

A sigh from Rossi.

"You husband. How does Sam get on with him?"

"Oh you know….they see each other sometimes – outside when Jules is with the cars or the bikes and he talks to him until Jules walks away. He doesn't dislike him, he just has a problem understanding the child. We weren't expecting one so strange. We didn't plan it like that you know. But adoptions….they are dodgy sometimes…you never know what the genetics are like – don't you think?"

Now Rossi frowned.

"Sam is adopted? How old was he?"

"Baby – and well – I say he doesn't have our genetics…strictly speaking in a way he does – just not full. He's my brother in law's child. Not Jules. A younger brother…got someone pregnant – though god knows how as he is as gay as a peacock – and not living a healthy life right now and don't bother asking me where he lives as I really don't know and don't have a care of it…but – if you find him – don't believe a word he says….out and out liar through and through not an honest bone in his body." She paused. "And he's a pervert."

"Is there any chance that the brother in law may have taken him?"

"No." And an uncrossing of the legs. She had said all she was willing to right now.

"Why not?"

"Because I will kill him if he touches him and he knows."

"Can I ask why you have never had your own child?"

"Oh – you mean with Jules? Don't make me laugh! He's as bent as his brother.

-o-o-o-

When Reid woke up he could feel someone holding him. Not as normal from behind but in front of him. One arm loosely draped across him and a hand tangled in his hair. He knew who it was. He could smell him. He didn't need to open his eyes and if he did he was sure he would vomit again. The noise – the noise in his head – it sounded like a whirling thumping crashing funfair at the coast. A memory. Walking along with his father and the smell of the sea. No not the sea. It's a river. He could remember walking there with his father. The music banging away. No – not music – the sound of water over rocks. People laughing – or maybe they are silent but there are people. A lot of people.

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked right back into the deep dark eyes of the man laying on the floor with him. Neither of them moved or said anything. Neither of them had to.

It was nearly a smile that Floyd managed and his fingers slowly moved in Spencer's hair. He licked his lips. "Headache?"

Reid blinked his reply. The river was still too loud.

"Will you let me help you?"

It must have been reaching some pretty big rocks and running down hill from hear because the river in his head was going to drown him if he wasn't real careful.

"I need you to say you want me to Spence. I don't want you screaming abuse at me later saying you could've handled it yourself."

"Floyd."

He said the name and it made him want to throw up.

"Babes. Just ask for help and I will give it to you."

"I would rather be dead than ask you for help." And he coughed and gagged and scrunched his eyes closed again and could feel the hand slipping away from around him and the hand leaving his hair." And the water covered his mind and he slid thankfully back into the darkness.

Slowly Flanders got to his feet. His only thought being _'you ungrateful bastard.' _But really could he blame him. He wanted to die. That was obvious. So let it be. He would help him out there. Easily done.

There he is incapacitated….easy to do. Stamp on his neck. That would finish him quickly. Or slice him.. Get a razor and slice his neck…That works …works well.

He looked down at Spencer laying sleeping on the floor and limped to the bathroom. He pulled open the cabinet above the white wash basin and pulled out a pack of blades. He took one and removed the wrapper dropping the bit of paper on the floor and the other blades into the basin. His foot hurt a lot today. The tiny bit he had taken back had done Reid more harm than he had thought it would, and didn't seem to have had any effect on himself. He looked at his fingers which he still couldn't move properly and were held also by a brace going up his arm and supporting his damaged wrist.

Now he sat with his legs crossed on the floor again and looked down at Spencer's sleeping form. _'He really should have been an Angel. He would have done a damned – no pun intended – good job.'_

He placed the blade on the floor next to himself. In case he needed it. And then he leaned forwards.

Gently licking at Spencer's exposed neck. He could smell the blood flowing under the skin and as he bit gently – and then not so gently into the delicious sweet flesh he could feel the arterial spray hit the back of this throat. Gently he placed his hands on Spencer as he felt him start to shake as he bit down harder and ripped off skin and tore off flesh and pulled and severed the arteries. Slowly he pushed Reid onto his back and his teeth continued their passage around to the front of his throat where he took a final scrunching munch from the man he loved.

Spencer had stopped twitching or moving. The blood had slowed to a trickle. Floyd placed his hand on Spencer's chest to feel for a heart still beating and feeling nothing he bent down and kissed him on the lips.

"Now my turn. See you soon babes."

He picked up the blade and looked at in his palm. Then with his bad hand he clumsily took hold of Spencer's hand and drew the small blade across his own neck.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4 Time

Chapter 4

Time

_Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the __clock__ stops does time come to life__: - __William Faulkner _

Disclaimer: Criminal Mind is not mine.

* * *

He couldn't breathe.

Another try and still nothing.

Spencer started to panic.

There was no air and his throat hurt. It was agony. It felt like someone had stuffed a red hot poker down his throat.

He rolled onto his side trying to get some oxygen into his brain and all he could see was red.

Everywhere was red.

The floor was covered in this red and now looking at his hands so were they.

A gasp of air. Finally.

One short gasp of air.

He could see in the red and small silver shiny thing.

He prodded it with his slightly shaking finger and pressed it down into the redness on the floor.

Spencer's brain was having a problem working out what was going on. His fingers dug in and found the small shiny thing, though now it was shiny with red and not silver as it had been. He placed it on his palm and looked at it closer.

A small blade.

A small blood covered blade.

And more breaths now coming slightly easier, but the pain was excruciating but it permitted his brain to try to work out if this was blood all over the floor. A huge monstrous puddle of blood….

And his eyes moved over the puddle until they saw the someone sitting watching him. Just sitting there in the blood – watching.

Another deep breath as his brain took in the vile stench of death and blood. It stuck to the back of this already swollen throat and as he pushed himself to sit up and his head spun and his mind raced in an attempt to figure out what the hell was going on he could feel the blood dripping from him where he had been laying in it – long thick tendrils of red goo.

It dripped from the side of his face and down his arm and landed in soft plopping globs in the puddle he was sitting in.

His shaking hands pushed wet hair off his face as he leaned forwards slowly and touched who he could see was Floyd – on the knee.

"Hey." His voice came out wrong. Croaking. Painful. It felt like it split the inside of his neck open and caused him to cough deep bubbling gagging bloody lumps out into the red puddle.

Floyd didn't answer.

This time Spencer's hand shook him. He didn't talk. It hurt too much to talk.

But he got a result this time. Very slowly Floyd sort of – gently – almost as though in slow motion slid sideways and with a squelch toppled over into the puddle he was sitting in. Breaking the skin which had started to form over the cooling liquid. Apart from that there was no sound.

Spencer frowned and looked again at the thing he was holding carefully in his hand and then he looked over at Floyd. He got to his knees and crawled – splashing slightly and sliding a bit and feeling sick at the smells – until he reached him. He pushed again – needing him to get up and explain and he could see the deep gash in the throat and he could see the look in the still open eyes and he could see – he could see the blade in his hand and the mess on the floor and the gash in the neck and the unseeing eyes…and he looked again at the blade and tried to think what had happened.

And his memories were screwed up into a ball and were being played with and messed around and he wanted to scream but it would hurt. Floyd had given him back pain but what had happened to him after that?

He stayed kneeling where he was – his eyes flickering from the blood to the blade and back to Floyd. Spencer tried to remember where the blade had come from. He had a fuzzy painful memory of finding it in the red stuff, but that memory was fading now and all he could think of was what was in front of him.

Very slowly he stood up and dropped the little slither of metal to the floor. He had to tell someone. He had to get Hotch here. He had to sort this out. Now. Later.

Later.

He needed to wash. To get rid of the evidence of what he had done. Get the blood off him self and make things better.

"Clean the floor." He croaked and coughed and gagged and staggered away splashing and sliding as his feet tried to aqua glide over the bloody pool.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled out a trash bag and stripped off his clothes. He put them in the bag and then put the bag in the bin. He followed his bloody foot prints back out of the kitchen and now he walked to the bathroom…

'Wash'

Was the only thing on his mind now. He had to get this filth off himself.

He saw the little bits of shiny metal dropped in the wash basin and carefully he picked the paper covered blades up and slipped them back into the cupboard where they belonged.

Then he turned on the taps to the tub.

A bath. He needed more than a shower. He needed to soak.

He stood and watched it fill slowly and he poured in a bottle of bubble stuff that had a lavender scent to it. He threw the big plastic bottle in the bin under the washbasin and then stepped into the far too hot water.

-o-o-o-

They needed to see Sam's bedroom.

"Well I really don't know why. The boy never sleeps in it." Amber Trent-Saviour was obviously getting tired of all the questions.

"We would still like to look." Hotch was trying to stay patient with this woman who was really driving him to the edge of sanity. "There might be something in there to give us an idea of where he is."

She shrugged and gave them directions to the boy's room but it was nanny Lopez with her stiff British accent who took them up there. She was about five foot two and of Hispanic origins. Hotch was curious about the accent.

"Lopez is a Spanish name – Mexican?"

She stopped and turned. "Spain. Mainland of Spain. Why. Is it important?"

"Your accent …."

"I was raised in Britain. If that makes any difference at all to this child's whereabouts." She flashed almond shaped dark eyes at Hotch and tucked her shoulder length hair behind her eyes.

He felt that there was something wrong about this person. Something off. Something raised alarm bells. He would get Garcia to check her out.

The boy had a small suite of rooms in the west wing. A lounge area, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Nanny Lopez didn't join them. Hotch and Morgan entered alone whilst Rossi went off to see what information if any he could get from the father.

"Well." Was all Morgan managed to say as he stood in the doorway.

"Not typical of a ten year old." Hotch said still standing just looking. One hand he rested on the door frame and the other he pushed a bit of hair away from his forehead. "Be careful what you touch." Hotch put on some latex gloves and Morgan pulled a pair out of his pants pocket and did so too. They knew that the search team had been up here, and they knew that the child was eccentric to say the least but this still was a long way from what they expected.

Clocks. Everywhere there were clocks. On the floor and on the walls and on shelves. All shapes and sizes and nothing which required electricity to power it. Some were ticking slowly and some stood motionless the hands stuck at varying times. Some were broken. They looked as though they had been hit with something or thrown hard at the wall….some were carefully pulled apart and were laid out like a carcass on a small work bench. There were clock mending tools and magnifying glasses and screwdrivers and odd pairs of glasses with strong optical lenses in them.

Picture also hung on the wall.

Some looked as though a child – probably Sam had drawn them and some look as though they had been ripped from books. Some were taped to the wall and some were framed. They hung in no particular order but there were basically only two kinds. Dark – empty – almost black pictures and too bright over exaggerated pictures of rivers and trees.

The floor, which had a bare wooden base could hardly be seen through the piles of paper and ripped up books and comics. Eye glasses and doodlings and scratchings directly into the wood but everything seemed mechanical. Nothing electronic to be seen. No computer. Not in this room. Not obviously anyway and a printer is harder to hide.

They picked their ways over the mess on the floor towards the boy's bedroom.

Completely clock free. It was full of dvd's. They were piled everywhere and the bed was obviously never used. It was made and covered again in DVD's and bits of paper with childish writing all over it. Pencils all over the floor. The walls in contrast to the previous room were devoid of anything. Not one single picture of clock hung on the walls here and the drapes over the windows when checked had blinds pulled down behind them.

"A movie buff with a clock obsession." Morgan finally spoke. "This doesn't really help. This just confuses the matter further. Not your average ten year old."

Hotch was shaking his head. "We need to find out where he sleeps. Nanny Lopez said he didn't sleep much, but I don't think he sleeps in here at all. And these movies." Hotch picked one up off the floor. "Downloaded from somewhere." He passed it to Morgan. "Get Garcia to look at it."

Morgan slipped it into an evidence bag and then into his pocket.

-o-o-o-

Rossi was trying to talk to the father, who was being resistant to his questions.

"When did you last see your son?"

A shake of the head? "I really don't know. All day's they are much like the next you know."

"Can you talk to me about your decision to adopt your brother's son?"

A raised eyebrow and hair pushed off the face for about the hundredth time since Rossi had joined Jules Trent-Saviour in the library. "My brother is a no good bit of nothing. He was disowned by my father long before Sam came along. As a child. Wayward. Perverted. A liar. He came to us one day and said he had managed by some miracle of modern science to get some floozy pregnant. He wanted us to take the child. Knowing our 'situation.'"

"Did you ever meet the girl?"

"No. Why would I want to meet my scum of a brother's dirty bit of whore?" He took off his glasses and cleaned them on the front of this shirt. "I really don't know how this effects anything."

"Sometimes in situations like this it has been found that the birth parent will take the child back. Either to keep – or maybe for ransom. We haven't had a ransom note yet. I was going to ask you – can I have a photograph of Sam."

Glasses back on his face Jules stood from the small wooden chair he had perched himself on. "Sam was very resistant to photographs. I don't have any."

"A physical description?"

"About the height of a ten year old. Hair down to here." Flicked his hand across his collar. "Dark – very dark deep eyes – the type you can't look into." Jules started to pace. "A girl's face. He should have been a girl – small features and that boy wasn't all he looked to be. I never bonded with him. I found what he had been doing. I beat him til he screamed." Again pushing hair off his face. "Always in dungarees and a shirt with sleeves rolled up….and boots."

Rossi was beginning to wonder what the hell was going on with this family.

"He was skinning cats. Pulling feathers out of birds. Stuff children of that age shouldn't be doing. He deserved the beating."

Rossi scratched at his chin. "Mr Trent-Saviour, when did this happen? That you hit your son?"

"He came in the house covered in blood – a few days ago – last week. Sometime over these last few months. If he was an animal I would have had him put down. I never bonded. I never liked him. Even as a baby – there is something wrong with that child."

-o-o-o-

"Shit."

He could hear the running water again.

Floyd sat up and looked around him – back at the river again.

"I wasn't expecting you back so soon." The voice he had heard before. Floyd turned to look at the ancient woman sitting next to him.

"I didn't plan this."

She ran her thumbnail across her throat. "You sliced yourself open Floyd. What did you expect?"

He threw a dirty look at her and stood up. "I was expecting Spence to pull me back – that was the plan."

She stood up with him and took hold of his hand. "Well you should have explained that to him maybe."

"This is un-sodding- believable! He's not even going to try is he?"

She shook her head. "He's better off without you. Why not give him the rest of what you have and walk over the river. You never know – as you are being such a self sacrificial little turd they might not pitch you straight out again."

He took a couple of paces towards the river. "They won't have me back. I'm not ready."

"You just don't want to give it all up do you?"

He turned to look at her. "No – I'm not ready. I want it back how it was. I don't know how to do it."

She shrugged. "Too late now. They will cart you away and put you in the dark earth – or burn you and send your ashes to the dump. You won't exist over there for much longer."

He looked up towards the hill he had climbed previously. "I will go back as I did last time."

"You can't. Last time you weren't dead."

"Shit!"

"You did it to yourself Floyd. I will give you a chance though. Time to consider what to do next. Take my hand and come with me. I will show you something."

She grabbed his hand again and led him upstream. In places they paddled and the water seeped up the fabric of his trousers but after a while his foot began to hurt and by the time they rounded the bend in the small river he was limping.

Standing in the middle of the river was a hut. It stood about ten foot above the bubbling water on long slender legs. It was listing slightly to one side and the small building which seemed to be about six foot square had an opening with a ladder. From where Floyd was standing he could see no windows.

"You can stay there. All night. The night creatures won't get you there. You will be safe but Floyd you have only one night here and then you must make your choice."

He stood and shook his head. "You brought me all this way to show me a box on sticks and to tell me to make my mind up? I know I have to make my fucking mind up! I know I have choices, but I don't know what those choices are! I don't know what I want. I can't do this with only half of the available information."

She dragged him around to face her.

"First of all don't you ever talk to me like that. I am trying to help you out here. You don't want my help, you want to rot? You want to risk crossing the river? Go a head. Go now. Or you hold your filthy tongue and you listen to me." She pulled Floyd's eyes to hers as she spoke. "Take back what you gave him and heal yourself. Leave it as it is – both of you only half alive – half dead. Give him all and cross the river. Talk to him. Tell him what to do. Guide him. He needs you to tell him how to help you – or you will be in the ground for an eternity Floyd or ashes in the wind." She let go of him. "You have one night to decide and whatever you hear. Whatever you think you see – it is trickery. Don't listen to them Floyd. Stay up there in hut. It will keep you safe. Come down here in the dark and you will die. I can promise you that."

-o-o-o-

She stood outside and pulled put a slim silver lighter and lit up.

Emily stood her a lot and today she knew Floyd was there too. She looked up at Reid's window and could see the light on behind the thick drapes but that was all.

She imagined what they were doing up there together.

Touching and holding and kissing and loving and it made her angry and sad. She wanted Floyd so much it hurt and she hated Reid so much it made her eyes water – or maybe she had smoke in her eyes.

She looked down at the number written on a bit of paper in her hand….and walked on slightly stiff legs towards the main doors at the bottom of Reid's apartment block. She punched in the number and heard the buzz of the locks opening. Quickly she entered and walked to the elevator. There was no one around. It was getting dark. She should be at home. She should be sleeping.

When the door 'shooshed' aside she stepped in and with a deep breath pressed the floor number for Reid. What she was going to do when she got there she didn't know. She just knew she wanted to disturb what ever love making they were doing. She wanted Floyd to stop touching the freak genius and see her. The elevator stopped and she stepped out and looked down the passageway. There were four doors leading to different apartments. Reid's was at the end.

And now she stood there in the pale yellow passage with her finger about to press the buzzer to ask if she could come in.

Think Emily – what is your excuse. Why would you after all this time come to see Reid?

The button was white and she pressed it once. Counted to five in her head and released it. Done. Can't go back now. Not enough time to run for to shelter. He will open the door and see and she won't know what to say.

She stood and waited.

She could hear the splashing of water.

'_Oh god they are showering together' _

and a slideshow of images played for her in her mind.

She could hear movement. He was going to be cross. He was going to want to know what she wanted.

She heard the locks on the door being snapped back and then the door swung open.

Reid stood there staring at Emily. He had a towel around his waist and his hands and parts of his arms were washed and clean. His chest was pale and wet, but his face was covered in blood. It was in his hair wet and shiny and running down the sides of his face and dripping onto his shoulders.

"Emily!" That over excited voice she knew so well. "You've caught me at a bad time."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5 Time to Think

Chapter 5

Time to Think

_Thinking is easy, acting is difficult, and to put one's thoughts into action is the most difficult thing in the world: - __Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

The climb up the ladder was slow going.

It somehow seemed to be a lot longer than it looked. Each rung appeared to take him further away from the box he was meant to sit and think in for the night.

His ankle was hurting. Walking trying not to strain the tendon hand put pressure on other places and now everywhere ached. The back of his heel though felt like something was eating at it. The pain was incredible. He had never realised before what a small thing could do to someone. Every rung he had to wait and move his foot and take the weight off it, but now this was causing his knees to crack and burn.

Things weren't helped at all by the cramps in his left hand. It felt like a million needles were sticking into his wrist and he wanted to bite down on it and rip out whatever it was causing so much pain. How can one – no two tiny cuts cause so many problems?

Floyd rested his forehead on one of the rungs above him and looked down at the river below. He could see the black ancient wood of the pillars holding his refuge up. He could smell the age of the water and minerals which had rushed past these wooden supports since the beginning of time probably. He could see how over the ages they had become black and smooth as granite. He wanted to reach his hand out and brush his finger tips over the hard wood, but that would mean holding on with only a hand with kept doing things he didn't ask it to and that was a risk he didn't want to take.

Another rung and something in the back of his foot made a nasty cracking sound.

"Shit." A muttered curse. And now the journey up the ladder was going to be harder.

By the time he was dragging himself over the lip of the small wooden building he felt like just biting his foot off and being done with it for good. He rolled sitting on the lip of the shack and saw now that the river was black as ink and everything else had started to fade into a smudgy grey. He pulled himself in properly and looked around his new environment. Empty. Square. Sitting at a strange lopsided angle. Sitting the way he walked.

Floyd pushed his way to the back wall and sat with his legs crossed looking out of the hole which served as the door. He had been told not to leave and he could think of nothing which would make him. His mind now trying to focus on what he needed to do he pulled at the brace holding his wrist and dragged it off to look at the deep messy purple scar running all the way around his wrist. They had explained that because of the damage done and then the – well failure – and more damage that his hand had for all intents and purposes been amputated and redone. The scar on the back though was neat and surgical. The one on the inner side looked like dogs had been eating at it.

"It will fade Mr Franks."

He had been told.

He rubbed at his fingers and licked at the scar feeling the odd ridges under his tongue and lips. He was sure that the brace hadn't been on his hand earlier…when he had been talking to the Ancient One. He scratched at his neck and now looked at the damage he had done to his foot. He didn't want to touch it. It was swollen and red and his foot was going a funny colour.

Floyd raised an eyebrow.

"Oh well. I'll just have to get Spence to help me. Sodding stupid…asking that freak for help." He raised his voice to a shout. "I hope you know I'm not happy about this!"

'_Spence. You need to listen to me.'_

-o-o-o-

Me

I'm leaving this you know cos you might be interested in me too.

They – that lot looking for me – it's a game.

I get so bored sometimes.

Time.

Time keeps me amused. Mechanical things keep me amused…

I've lived here for as long as I can remember….which's not too long really and she ignores me and he beats me and that Lopez woman isn't what she appears to be. I know what she is really. My uncle told me.

My uncle.

Can't say to much really but he comes to see me when tis all quiet and we natter and chat and it was him who showed me the skins and then brought me the dead cat. He hadn't killed it. He found it. Thought I could practice on it.

I love my uncle.

They think I'm isolated but I have more freedom than anyone else. More than those people who pretend to be my mum and dad. I know what they are too. I have seen the book! I saw it! I know how long they have and it's my secret.

The clocks. I love my clocks. I smile when I get a new one and I can pull it apart and remove all the tiny cogs and wheels and springs and then set it all back again backwards. Make time go backwards. If only for a little while….if only of a second.

The DVD's

Well I was the stupid one there. I didn't think they would show that much interest in what I watch.

Damnit that is going to be funny. When their tech watches that. I would love to be a fly on the wall for that one.

I'm off.

Thank you for listening to me.

I need a smoke and my sister is coming down to play.

-o-o-o-

"A bad time." Emily looked at Spencer standing in front of her trying to take in all she could see. "What on earth happened to you?"

A little line appeared in the encrusted blood between his eyes and for a second or two he looked puzzled. "I'm fine Emily! Nothing happened to me but this is a bad time."

"Fine?" She reached out to touch the blood still dripping from Reid. She could smell the coppery tang. There was no mistaking what he was covered in. She had images of the movie 'Carrie' when she had the bucket of blood poured over her head at the prom. "Spencer can I come in for a minute please?" Whatever reason she had originally come up here for was forgotten. Now all she had was a huge fear that Reid had completely lost his mind and done something awful. She watched as he calmly stood to one side and let her in.

"Excuse the mess Emily. I need to clean up a bit."

She did her best to smile at him but she thought it came out looking like a lunatics grimace. "Don't worry. I can handle a bit of mess. Show me where all the blood has come from Spencer." Treat him calmly. The boy had cracked. It seemed obvious to her.

He nodded and walked down the short passage to the lounge. The smell of blood wafting behind him. Emily closed the door and carefully followed.

He was laying on his side in a congealing puddle of blood. It looked as though he had fallen into the blood afterwards by the way it had run down his shirt in the wrong direction. Emily just stood and stared at it.

"Oh god Spencer what have you done?"

Reid had gone to sit on his comfy chair his feet splashing through the mess on the floor. "Me? I didn't do this Emily. I wouldn't have done that!"

"Have you called the police….have you called anyone? He is dead?"

She watched Spencer's eyes move over to Floyd and he licked his lips. "I would think so Emily. That's a lot of blood. Called someone? No – no I haven't. Do I need to?"

She slowly shook her head not sure why….obviously they had to call someone…she just didn't know who.

Carefully she crouched down and reached out for a bit of Floyd she could touch. A bit of flesh. He hand made gentle contact with his right hand which was laying partially covered in the puddle. She bit on her bottom lip and looked over at Spencer.

"When did this happen?" Looking at the way the edges of the puddle were drying it wasn't within the last hour. This happened a while ago.

"I don't know. I – I'm a bit confused – I think I fell asleep. When I woke up – this is what I saw, but Emily, I don't know, maybe I did it."

She looked at Reid and back at the hand on the floor. "Do you have pipes under the flooring Spencer? Hot water….anything to make the floor warm?"

Spencer unfolded his legs from under him and leaned forwards looking down at the floor. "This floor? I've never noticed the floor being particularly warm. It's concrete under the wood Emily. All the pipes run around the edges behind the skirting. Why?"

"He's still warm."

Emily stood up and moved again so she could touch his face and not tread in blood. Spencer watched and started to get up out of his chair. "He can't be. That's not possible."

"Reid. I want you to go and have a shower and get dressed. Now…Move yourself then get back here and help. Quickly!"

She waited until he was gone and then moved forward into the blood. She heard it squeak and squelch under her boots and now bending down she put a hand on Floyd's shoulder and pushed him over so he flopped onto his back. She could see the deep slit across his throat: the thick scab of blood sticking to it and she thought she heard a sigh.

Carefully she got closer still. She could feel the blood soaking up through her trousers making them stick to her shins. She placed her head – her lips on his chest and kissed him very gently. "Oh god Floyd – what did he do to you?" Then she tipped her head to the side so that she could listen to the stillness of the heart which once thumped happily away.

There was a sound. Again more of a sigh than a heart beat. _'Gases – I can hear him decaying.' _She knelt back again and looked down at his face. It too was blood smeared. With the sleeve of her jacket she began to wipe some of it away and push the sticky messy hair off his face.

Emily wasn't sure what made her do it. A final goodbye? A push from somewhere…or a pull? She leaned in and kissed the blue tinged lips and ran her tongue over them quickly. Very quickly. In her imagination he had moved his lips back. Had he just been sleeping she would have been sure of it. Had this been sleep. But it was death and dead people don't respond to your kisses.

"Emily." The voice behind her made her jump slightly and let out a soft almost unheard gasp.

"Spencer. You were quick." She turned to see him standing still blood smeared but with a pair of boxers on.

"Emily – I need to do something."

"You need to shower. I told you to shower and get changed."

Spencer could hear him clearer now. It was as though the words were coming directly from him, but not from his mouth….from deeper inside.

'_Come on Spence you know what to do…what the fuck are you waiting for?'_

"I don't know what to do." He muttered back at the bloodied mess on the floor.

Emily looked up at him. "I told you. Go and shower."

Spencer's eyes snapped suddenly to Prentiss. "What? No – I wasn't talking to you. Get out of my way." Reid walked forward the blood on the floor squirting up between his toes and splashing Emily in the face.

"Reid look what you are doing! Get back."

"Shut up Emily."

'_That's it babes…get her away. I'm yours.'_

"Reid!"

"Emily! I said shut up. I can't concentrate with all the voices nagging at me in my head. All of you shut up and let me think!"

Prentiss narrowed her eyes and squished up out of Floyd's blood. "Spencer – who are you talking to?"

"All of you….shut up. I need a coffee…I need to think! And don't touch him – don't you touch him Emily. He is mine."

"I won't, but Spencer please go and wash the blood off first. It will help…the shower it will help."

'_Show her who's in charge babes!'_

"Me." Spencer hissed at Emily.

She shook her head. "You what?"

'_Show her! Don't let her push you around.'_

He took one step towards her and without hesitation punched her as hard as he could in the mouth. One of her hands flew to her face as she took some steps back to try to keep her wavering balance. Her feet slipped.

Spencer watched her slowly flail with her arms as her feet lost the tiny amount of grip they had in the goo and she as dainty as a ballerina fell backwards. Her head hit the edge of the small table and she slid silently onto the floor at the edge of the great red puddle.

Reid turned away from Floyd and Prentiss and slopped and squidged to the kitchen. He needed a coffee.

'_I will guide you, but you know what to do.'_

"Shut up Floyd. Just shut up. I want to think. I need my head clear. Get out of my head."

He pulled a mug out of the cupboard and poured a liberal amount of sugar into the bottom. He topped it up with coffee from the glass pot and walked back to the lounge.

Reid sat down on his chair and pulled his legs up under him and surveyed the scene.

'_Don't just sit there babes. I gave you this thing so we can help each other.'_

"Well maybe I don't want to help you. Maybe I want to wrap you in a plastic sheet and throw you in a ditch somewhere. I don't want you. I never have wanted you. I want Ardal."

'_Spence. Get up off your arse and do it – I don't want to have to make you.'_

"Floyd you are dead. You are just a voice in my head. Go away and let me think."

'_If I have to force you we will be back at the beginning and you will never have your beloved Ardal again. I will see to that. I will finish him babes. Get up and get this started.'_

Spencer put his mug down on the coffee table. He glance down at Emily who was breathing but out cold and then down at Floyd. He stood behind him.

"I don't want to do this. I don't want you."

'_You don't have a sodding choice you freak. Now get down there and do it.'_

"Give me one good reason why I should. Just one and I will consider it."

'_Spence – if you don't I will kill rip from you that which I gave you and use it to hurt your precious Ardal so much blood and shit will squirt from every orifice and you know I mean it. You know I will do it. Good enough reason?'_

Reid knelt down behind Floyd and placing a hand on his shoulder rolled him away so his back was to him. "Tell me exactly what I need to do." His voice not much more than a whisper as he lay down behind him and placed one hand under him and around so it was on his chest. The other he used to reluctantly undo the belt and top button on Floyd's jeans. Not something Floyd was going to tell him to do as that part of it was just his own sick perversion but if Spencer wanted to enjoy him…all the better.

-o-o-o-

Ardal sat alone in his room. The heroin ready to shoot. The voice in his head.

Over and over and over again the voice in his head.

'_Go on. No one will miss you. No one wants you. You're filth. You're scum. Spence doesn't even visit you now. Just do it. Just do it. Come on you old whore. You syphilitic diseased bit of perverted scum. Just do it.'_

He tightened the bit of rubber tubing around his arm and looked up at the door and then down at the drug in his hand.

The drug in his arm.

His eyes rolled back and Ardal slumped forwards off the bed and with a soft thump onto the floor where he lay fitting and foaming at the mouth for a full five minutes before he finally lay still.

'_Well done.'_

Was still echoing in his head when the last of the pink bubbles dripped from his open mouth.

-o-o-o-

She opened her eyes.

The train running in her head and thumping hurt like it was going to explode but the sight that caught her eyes wasn't something she was going to forget in a hurry.

It looked like they were both sleeping but she knew at least one of them was very dead and her heart jumped and choked her at the thought of what had been going on while she was unconscious on the floor. Quietly and carefully she crawled away. She didn't want to look. She couldn't look too closely. It was the most vile thing she could think of. One of the most vile…and definitely the worst she had ever seen. So clearly. So fresh and warm.

She reached up for the telephone on Reid's desk. Her blood smeared hands slid over the plastic and she dropped it to the floor. It thumped causing her head to spin with pain.

Blurry vision hindered her first attempt.

Second time she got through.

"Hotch. It's Prentiss. I'm at Reid's. Please come. Quickly." And she hung up and curled into as small a ball as she could as her stupid compartments slid away and let everything flood together into one big soggy bloody perverted mess.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6 Awake

Chapter 6

Awake

_Floyd Flanders once said: - Watch out here I come._

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

He knew the pass to get in through the main doors and he had a key to the apartment. He had Rossi with him and as they walked along the familiar passage towards Reid's front door both of them pulled their side arms.

Hotch had attempted to call the apartment back…he had tried to call Prentiss….and Reid wasn't answering either. No one was responding. The two men now stood in front of the dark wood door and with a sigh Hotchner pulled out the key and looked at the small bit of metal which was going to reveal something to them that he was sure he didn't want to see.

His agents in trouble.

A deep breath and he slipped the key into the lock. There seemed no point in knocking. If it was a false alarm Reid would just have to understand.

He turned the key and heard the lock click open. It hadn't been double locked. That was a start. One good thing. With one hand Hotch placed fingertips on the door and with the other he pulled the key back out and slipped it into his inside breast pocket. He looked at Dave who looking as grim as Aaron felt, just nodded at him.

The door swung open silently. Neither man moved. The smell hit them as they stood there. A smell they knew only too well. Death. Blood. Something very bad had happened.

There was silence. No one called out. Complete silence.

Just like a grave.

Again Hotch looked over at Dave who again nodded and both men stepped into the tomb like apartment.

The followed the direction the smell was coming from. Flashlights shining through the dust motes in the air. They could see bloody footprints on the hallway floor which moved into the kitchen which was now empty. Hotch looked at the shape and size of the print and took a wide guess that it was Reid. He had watched those feet so many times in the locker room. He closed his mind to the inappropriate images – blinking them away. They both stepped carefully, not wanting to destroy possible evidence.

Dave's flashlight was the first to pick up on something. Big dark eyes watching them. Emily was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall and her hands wrapped tightly around herself. She blinked as the light shone in her direction and Hotch was sure he heard her make a small noise like a frightened animal. Not a whimper. Something deeper than that.

Rossi walked quickly to Emily and holstered his sidearm as Aaron took in the rest of the scene.

He saw:

A huge puddle of blood. It looked like a crimson lake. Far too much blood. Even if you emptied a person completely there couldn't be this much blood in them. The lake was forming a crust around the edge and it slipped away in little tendrils of redness and crept between the floorboards and pooled next to the skirting board.

Flanders was on his side with Reid laying behind him. Both men were only partially dressed. Floyd had a lot more blood on him than Reid did. Actually parts of Spencer looked very clean. As though he had started to wash and got distracted or something. Flanders was drenched in drying blood which lead Aaron to believe that this was Floyd's blood.

He could see the slow rise and fall of Spencer's shoulders and he could see the way his hand was pressed against Floyd's chest – his fingers digging in to the cloth of the waistcoat Flanders was wearing.

He could see Floyd's fingers twitching occasionally. Neither man appeared dead….but – but what the hell had Reid been doing?

Hotch pulled a throw from the back of the couch and walked to Reid. He put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Reid." Nothing….just the rising and falling of his shoulders. "Reid – you need to wake up."

"Leave him be. He's tired." Floyd's voice sounded hoarse and dry. "Why can't people just leave us be?"

Aaron looked up at Rossi who was guiding Prentiss out of the room and back down the hall to the kitchen. "Flanders you are laying in a puddle of blood with my agent – uh behind you."

"He was screwing me." Floyd pushed Spencer's hand out of the way and moved forwards slightly before rolling onto his back. He leaned on his elbows in the puddle and looked up at Hotchner. "And you are here because?"

"Get up. Get up now and stand very still." Hotch wasn't going to play his games. He was tired and the case was unsettling and now this. His face he kept hard keeping away the emotions he might have been feeling. "I told you to get up."

Floyd smirked and slowly and a bit laboriously got to his feet. Hotch noted how he was favouring one side and he also noted the brace he was still wearing on his hand. Now he was standing he cold see properly the pattern of blood down his front. Mainly from the throat down he was sodden. There was a big oozing scab across the front of his neck. He was swaying slightly.

"Care to explain what has been going on here?" A side ways glance let him know that Spencer hadn't moved.

"Not really." Still sounding rough. "It's not your business Agent Aaron Hotchner."

"What have you done to Reid?"

Floyd turned a quarter circle to his right and looked down at him. "Nothing. I didn't touch him." And before Hotch could stop him Floyd was down on his knees and re-adjusting Spencer's boxers. He looked back at Hotch. "I didn't do this." He put a hand on Spencer's shoulder and ran his fingers down his arm. "I wouldn't hurt him. You must know I would never hurt him."

"Then stand away from him and – and – just stand."

Floyd stood up again and frowned. "He won't wake up yet. I'll take him and clean him up."

"Flanders, you will leave him AMT's are on the way and you are going to just stand exactly where you are until I know what is wrong with Reid and what you did to him."

A voice from behind Hotch.

"Floyd didn't do it." Emily sounded out of breath. "When I arrived Spencer was fine. A bit out of it – tired – but he was fine. I thought Floyd was dead. There was so much blood. So much blood everywhere." She stepped forward so she was level with Hotch. "His throat had been cut."

"Mine!" Floyd almost laughed the word. "Mine not his." A wave in the direction of Reid. "I cut my throat. It bled. I recovered. That really is all."

Hotch frowned and looked at Emily. "And you?"

"Slipped. I fell and I think I must have hit my head. When I woke up – came to – I saw what you did when you arrived."

Floyd smiled at Emily. "You see – this – this blood is mine. Self inflicted. You are going to arrest me for that? I would think Spence needs to taken away for what he did to a possibly dying man…not me."

"Be quiet Flanders." Rossi spoke. "The EMT's are here. Let them look you over."

"I'm fine. There is nothing wrong with me….I would check out Emily first. She looks very pale…and gave me a kinky snogging when she thought I was dead."

"A what?" Emily frowned.

"You kissed me darling… You gave me tongue."

Emily took a couple of steps forward until she could reach Flanders with her finger….she jabbed him on the chest. "You – you – you are sick!"

In a flash with his right hand he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. "Want me now do you? I can smell it on you. You dirty, dirty little girl." He then pushed her back out of the way. "Agent Emily Prentiss – I'm a fag. Speaking of which, I need a smoke."

Hotchner took Emily by the arm. "Go with the medics. I want you to get that cut on your head seen to."

She nodded and put her hand over the place she had hit it and walked backwards a few steps before turning and walking away.

"Now Flanders you will stand still whilst they check out Reid."

Hotch watched Floyd carefully. He needed to work out if this was something he had done or if this was what he said it was. He knew most of what came out of his mouth was a lie, so it was the face and body language he was interested in here. Floyd had turned to watch the medics who were well protected against the blood roll Reid over onto his back. Aaron saw Floyd run his hands over the sides of his trousers wiping away sweat from the palms of his hands. He watched the way he stood with his feet together and leaning back slightly. A way he had noticed he stood a lot – this was a relaxed stance for him. Floyd's head was tipped forwards slightly as he watched what the medics where doing. He couldn't see Flanders eyes but he could see that he was grinding his jaw and again rubbing his hands.

Something was bothering him yet he was calm enough for it not to sending him into a fury.

Floyd's head turned to look at Hotch. "He will be alright."

"What's bothering you then?" Hotch took a step forward.

Floyd thought for a second before answering. "I don't like them touching him."

Hotch nodded. The over possessive Floyd. "They're checking him out."

And now Floyd looked back down at them touching Reid's face and putting things on his chest to listen and taking sample of blood from his arm. "I know. Which is the only reason I haven't ripped their throats out yet."

The medics looked up at Hotch. "Everything seems fine…well as fine as you would expect. I would like to take him in and get him checked out properly though."

Floyd took one step forward. "No." He crouched down and touched Spencer gently on the side of the face. "Wake up babes." Hotch moved forwards and took Flanders by the left arm.

"Get away from him and let the medics sort it out."

He stood very slowly and looked down at the hand on his arm. "Get the fuck off me Hotchner." He put his hand over Aaron's and started to pull it away.

"Move away and let them do their job." Aaron's hand tightened and twisted in a way to manoeuvre Floyd to the side.

"Don't touch me!" And now Floyd was swiping up at Hotch's arm to push him back out of the way…Knowing that Rossi was around. Knowing that Aaron was armed…Knowing that the medics were there – his choices were limited unless he wanted to get shot….and though he could take that. He could deal with that – he didn't want to have to now. He took a deep breath and looked at Hotch in the eyes.

"Take your sodding hand off me before I have to rip your face off." He spat into Aaron's face.

"Not until you have calmed down. Not until you step away from Spencer and let them do their job. He needs to be checked over in hospital."

"If they try to take him from me I will kill someone – and I can't promise it won't be you. Tell them to get their filthy hands off him. I will wake him up and give him a shower."

"No…." he might have been meaning to say more but Floyd was on him like an animal. His good hand being the one most free was on Hotch's face digging his nails in as he ripped his arm out of Aaron's grasp. As Hotch put his hand up to try to get Floyd off him Flanders sunk his teeth into Aaron's wrist and scrunched down until his teeth were rasping against the bone in Hotch's wrist.

Aaron stumbled back using his other hand to pull his hand gun at the same time as Flanders fingers scratched and crawled up to Aaron's eyes as he let go of Hotch's arm and screamed in his face. "Fucking shoot me then! Both of you!" Rossi had appeared behind him and was pressing his sidearm to the back of Floyd's head. "Get it over with then! What are you waiting for?" His fingers started to dig in harder to the soft skin around Hotch's eyes.

"Flanders I will shoot you if you don't release Agent Hotchner now." Rossi pressed the cold iron of the gun in harder.

He moved his hand down off Hotch's face and watched the sudden flow of blood. "You don't scare me. You just don't understand. Why wont you let me do what I need to do?!"

Hotch moved back slipping in the blood under his feet with his hands over his face wondering – no hoping – that all this liquid was just blood. A medic was at his side her fingers fluttering over his as he let out a soft moan of relief at the sight of light between his fingers.

Rossi put his side arm away and took Floyd by the arm. "Kitchen – now! and you better start hoping you haven't done Agent Hotchner serious damage."

Floyd didn't react to Rossi the same way he did to Hotchner. Rossi was different. Rossi was safe. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because you are being unreasonable. You are lucky you are not laying dead on the floor right now Flanders – I don't know how you get away with it. Reid will be taken to hospital. He will be checked over and you will calm down."

"Sons of bitches. After everything I did. I kept him alive. I crippled myself for him and I get this shit in return." He reached the kitchen and walked in and just stood thinking. "You won't find him."

Rossi walked forward. "Won't find him?"

"Sam."

The medic looked carefully at the damage done. "Nothing too bad sir. I can glue the couple of places where it is deep. He managed to cause a lot of bleeding. More alarming than damaging."

Hotch nodded and let the medic clean his face up as he tried to watch Reid being lifted and placed on a gurney. He hoped Floyd was telling the truth, but he had a problem believing anything that man said. He just didn't seem to be able to talk without lies.

-o-o-o-

When he woke up he was laying on his back under starched sheets in yet another hospital.

-o-o-o-

When he woke up he was laying on his side in a puddle of vomit and piss.

-o-o-o-

He felt empty. It felt as though something had gone. Something was missing.

-o-o-o-

He hurt all over. He had wanted to die. Something had told him to die. Why was he still here?

-o-o-o-

Spencer looked around the empty room and placed a hand on his throbbing head. He tried to remember what the hell had happened.

-o-o-o-

Ardal looked around the dirty room and rolled onto his back trying to work out what the hell had gone wrong.

-o-o-o-

He pressed the call button. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to know – know something, but his foggy mind kept making it slide away and he couldn't remember what it was he wanted.

-o-o-o-

He pulled the rubber tubing off his arm where it was still tied tightly and half expected and wanted the rush, but nothing happened. He tried to remember what had led to this, but his head hurt too much to let him think.

-o-o-o-

The nurse walked in and smiled a big smile. "Dr Reid how nice for you to wake up at last. How are you feeling?"

"Confused. How did I get here?" he pushed up so he was sitting.

"Well the other Agents came in with you. I think Agent Hotchner is itching to talk to you. Are you up to that?"

A sigh. "Anyone else? Anyone else waiting?"

"Well yes, but I really don't think it a good idea for you to see him. He needs to get cleaned up."

"Can I see him first please. Then the Agents."

The nurse tutted and walked back out of the room. Spencer flopped back onto the bed and waited. He was a million miles away when he felt the fingers lightly touch his hair.

"Hey babes."

Spencer turned to him. "Thank you. I think I understand now."

Floyd nodded. "I knew you would. And you are more than welcome. You owe me one though."

"And you need to wash. Really Floyd you stink of decomp."

Flanders smirked and leaned down to give Spencer a 'welcome back' kiss. "I'll go do that now – was thinking of getting my hair cut too….it's getting long."

Spencer smiled back at the smirk. "Go – and I will thank you properly later."

-o-o-o-

Ardal crawled to his bed and lay down on his stinking bedding and curled up into a ball. He wanted Spencer. He needed him so badly, and now it seemed he couldn't even take away the pain with drugs. All his money spent on what should have been his last shot and here he was still needing him more than ever.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7 Shower and Soap

Chapter 7

Shower and Soap

_By washing, their pollution is not removed, even though they may wash hundreds of times: - __Sri Guru Granth Sahib _

**A/N: Slight slash warning !!**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

She had a small pile of DVD's picked up from the floor in the child's bedroom.

He was ten.

She had a big mug of coffee and though she didn't expect it to be Bambi she was going to be watching – it wasn't going to be the worst thing she had watched.

The beginning of the first one was fuzzy and grainy and just a few flashes of colour. It looked like something home made and the recording was very poorly done. Garcia carried on watching though. Something about it made her think that she should.

When the image finally cleared and she could see properly she put her mug down and just stared at the monitor. It was a short clip of about five minutes long. Actually the clock said it was five minutes and fifty seconds, but the first minute was the dark nothingness.

She removed the disc from the drive and put it back in its protective cover. She wrote a message on a sticky note and stuck it to the front. She was feeling very uncomfortable now about things as she slipped the next one into the drive.

This one sprang into life with no dark beginning…nothing to ease her in. She pressed stop and called Hotch.

-o-o-o-

To be able to think straight for the first time in so long was an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling for Spencer.

He spoke animatedly to Hotch about all sorts of things which had suddenly popped back into his head. He recited bible passages to him and poetry. He paced his hospital room reading Proust from his memory and smiled and for Hotch, Reid looked the happiest he had done in months.

This though wasn't all good. Reid refused to talk about Floyd and he refused to talk about his time when he was missing for so long.

After Aaron asked him once again. "I need to know if you intend on keeping your relationship with Floyd going." Spencer finally stopped pacing and turned to look at his boss.

"It's my private life Hotch. I really don't think, if my private life is not encroaching on my work life if it matters."

Hotch walked towards Reid. He wanted to reach out and touch that face. Run his thumb over those slightly open lips and drown in a very cliqued way in those huge hazel eyes.

"He is abusive." And he swallowed. "I don't like that he is in your life. I consider it a security risk. He is known to be able to get any information out of anyone he wants and when things don't go his way he uses violence. I can't have one of my team members being a risk to the operation of the BAU."

Reid was looking over Hotch's shoulder at some point far away.

"Reid do you understand what I am saying."

A nod. "That you think if I keep or resume a relationship with Flanders I will be putting the BAU at risk."

"Reid…"

"Wait – you are saying that in the throws of passion I might give away some secret."

"Reid…."

"No – no wait….and you have never taken case files home and left them where Haley could have seen them?"

"That's not the same and you know it."

"No – I understand completely. You don't like me being with Floyd. He is a man and therefore I am a security risk because I like to………"

"Stop!" Hotch put his hand on Spencer's shoulder. "This has nothing to do with your sexuality. Nothing. It is to do with that one particular person who is – and you know it – not a good influence."

Reid sighed. "I haven't said I am going to resume the relationship I previously had with him anyway. I was never happy with it. I've moved on so maybe we can talk about something else? The weather? Anything actually than my private life."

Hotch dropped his hand from Reid and nodded. "I'll give you a lift home."

"Thank you Hotch – I would appreciate that. I won't be able to ask you up though. I really need time alone. I hope you understand."

Again a nod from Hotch. "I understand. Just remember if you need company…."

"I know. Thank you."

Spencer who was wearing some sweat pants and a Tshirt Hotch had brought in for him and a pair of rubber shoes stood and smiled. "Let's go then."

-o-o-o-

He booked a motel room for the night.

The lad he had with him was a dirty little trick but would do for now. He had such a blood lust going that day that he couldn't really help himself. He would deny it was his fault. The kid would have been dead within the year anyway.

He had entered the room thinking that this guy was a bit odd…and very smelly but money was money. He walked in first and surveyed the cheep room and the big bed. He wondered if this guy had drugs and smiled secretly inside when he felt a gentle hand on he back of his head and another on his shoulder.

It was the last thing he ever thought.

Floyd had said he would wash – but small point in doing things backwards. First this. He stripped the lad down and dragged him to the bed. He tore into his chest cavity and snapped back ribs. He reached in and removed the organs he needed and then rolled his victim onto is front. He didn't want to look at that when he had him later. Once he had started to cool down a little.

He sat back on the chair next to a small desk and had his lunch.

Floyd then just sat and waited. He left probably for three hours before he moved back to the bed and keeping as much of his own clothing on as he could he gave the lad what he had really been expecting.

As the sweat dripped from Floyd's forehead onto the back of the lad's neck he leaned in and licked and kissed a him and then bit down and gently – very gently took a few mouthfuls of delicious shoulder. This was food at its best. Floyd rolled over off the lad and pulled his own clothes back together again. There as a big soggy mess of blood on the bed which had spread out and now Flanders lay there taking in the smells and chewing on his kill.

He was happy. This was as good as it could get. He had Spence to go home to now. Can it get better?

He got up once the food was swallowed and picked up the lads clothing. It would look dirty and ridiculous on him, but it was not covered and stiff with blood and vomit and other accidental bodily fluids. He walked to the bath room and placed them on the closed toilet lid….then turning on the shower he peeled off his clothing. He had to admit – Spence was right. He was beginning to smell a bit. He removed the stupid thing he was wearing on his foot to keep his ankle safe until it healed and removed the brace from his hand. Boots he pulled off and placed next to the door. Floyd threw his dirty clothes to the side and stepped under the steaming hot water. He closed his eyes and let it run over his body for a while before picking up the shower soap and rubbing it into his dirty skin. He made sure – with some amount of pleasure that every part of his body was thoroughly washed and rubbed clean. Some parts cleaner than others. Then he soaped up his hair to get rid of what was stuck in there too. He looked down at the pink bubbles washing around his toes as he blinked away the soap running into his eyes. He wished Spencer was here. Right now. Just to massage. Just to run his long fingers through his hair, but this he was doing alone. This was something he was doing to prove to all those bastards out there pointing at him and accusing him of shit he hadn't done – this was for them as much as for Spence. He was going to be – for at least a short while – what Reid wants.

It wouldn't last.

That was the only good thing really. The thing which permitted him to do this. Wash off the old crap. Prepare yourself for the new.

Once the water was running clear he turned off the shower and stepped out. He wrapped a towel around his hips and leaned forwards towel drying his hair which even he thought had maybe gotten a bit long. It was nearly to his shoulder blades at the back now which was making it more and more annoying when he was – enjoying life – and he didn't want to tie it back….

He picked up the brace thing for his hand and slipped it back on again. Some feeling was coming back into part of his hand now and now he had everything he needed that would fix up, until then he was going to keep this on. He had a feeling that Spence felt safer thinking that he couldn't hit him as hard.

A mistaken theory of Spencer's.

The slightly cleaner clothes were still grubby but would do until he got something else. He got dressed. Strapped his ankle back up again, and this _was_ a pain in the proverbial arse. He hated it. He hated the twinge's and the stabbing of the thousands of needles in the back of his heel. This he would have to sort before his hand.

When he left the room just six hours later he looked fresh and almost normal. He walked with a very slight limp off towards the city not giving a damm about anyone finding the whore he had started to eat.

-o-o-o-

He stood outside the run down room. The door was painted red and chipped where it looked like someone had been kicking it. He hadn't been here in a while. He had cash.

Spencer lifted his hand and tapped gently on the door. He hadn't called first so he didn't know if he would be busy entertaining. Or even if he would be in. But he could hear footsteps and the door opened up as far as the chain would allow.

"Spencer!" Ardal smiled through the space in the door. "One sec." The door closed again and now Reid could hear the chair being slipped off just before it swung open again. "Oh god – I didn't think you were coming to see me anymore."

Spencer smiled. "I had a few things I needed to sort out. Can I come in?"

Ardal jumped out of the way to let Spencer by and closed the door quickly behind him. The room was a complete mess. It was filthy and it stank. There were used needles laying on a small shelf and the curtain was an old blanket hooked up behind the rail. But this wasn't what Reid had come to see. He turned around and smiled at Ardal who was grinning nervously back.

Reid reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A wad of notes was removed and placed on the bed. "I hope that's enough." Spencer's voice was almost a whisper.

He hated this. He hated taking money from Spencer. He hated being his whore, but he also needed to pay rent and get food and – well – he owed his man some money too.

"You don't have to give me money." He lied.

"I want to. I can afford to help." This was Reid's own way of trying to reason with himself – he wasn't paying to see a prostitute – and he wasn't enabling a drug addict. He was paying his rent. "It's rent money."

The double meaning wasn't lost.

Ardal just nodded and picked up the cash. He wanted to stand and count it. He wanted to work out what he would be offering his client for this amount of cash, but this was Spencer. He pulled open a drawer and put the money out of sight. Now they could forget about the little transaction and relax and have fun.

Spencer started by unbuttoning the shirt Ardal was wearing. Each button undone was accompanied by a kiss on the bit of flesh he had revealed. One hand playing with buttons and the other playing with a belt buckle.

Ardal stared in a similar way. He was quicker with Spencer's button's though and his other hand had moved down and was pulling the shirt from where it had been tucked in. His fingers lightly playing over the skin across the front of Spencer's stomach.

They had missed each other. Just the touching, the smells, the feel of the hands on each other was enough to send them both to a point where when their lips locked it very likely looked like they were going to die with pleasure. Spencer could feel Ardal's bare chest against his. He could feel his heart thumping too hard and too fast and the smells were intoxicating. More so in a way than Floyd's had ever been. It made his knees turn to jelly and his head swim. Everything was wiped from his mind. His brain emptied its self to allow Reid to feel Ardal's hands running over the skin on his back and down to his waistband. The kiss was so deep that neither man took a breath even though Spencer moaned slightly as he felt his jeans being slowly lowered. His own hands – one on the side of Ardal's face and the other running swirling patterns over the man's ribs on his side and down towards his hips.

Ardal earned his 's that night.

After they had stripped each other they managed somehow without removing hands or mouths from the other's skin to get to the bathroom. The shower was flicked on and finally Spencer let go of Ardal and stepped into the shower cubical. He stood with his hands against the green tiles and closed his eyes as Ardal moved in behind him.

They later curled up together and just held on tightly facing each other and faces buried in each others damp hair. Just complete peace and happiness.

"I have to be out early tomorrow. I can't stay too late." Spencer breathed into Ardal's hair.

"That's fine. Can I dress you?"

Spencer smiled. "Sounds good to me." he moved back and onto his back slowly letting go of the man he had been making love to for the past few hours. This wasn't a cheep fuck or a screwing….this was sweet and loving. He sat up on the side of the bed and felt a mouth kissing it's way up his back to his neck where he bit ever so gently.

With a sigh he stood and picked up his clothes which where in an untidy pile on the floor.

And with a final long drawn out lovers kiss Spencer said a final goodbye. "The money. It's ………"

"Rent money. I know. Thank you Spencer." Reid smiled at him and walked down the passage way towards to the stairs which would take him out of the building. It was a long way down but he wasn't going to risk the elevator tonight.

He ran.

He took them two at a time and slid his hand down the banister as he went.

He didn't think he had felt this happy and free in such a long time. Actually he didn't think he had ever been this happy. With a final bounce he was now at the bottom and he walked quickly towards to main exit doors and started to a pack of chewing gum out of his jeans pocket.

Spencer pushed open the doors and took the first two steps of the five leading down to the street.

He froze.

He looked behind him and then across the street again.

He thought maybe he said it out loud – but it might have just been in his head. "No – no please no."

Like he was walking in treacle he took the last three steps still staring across the street. He had arrived on public transport so he didn't even have the security of a car to get into…not that at this point a car would have made much difference.

A hand was beckoning at him to cross the street but he slowly shook his head and started to back up again. He took the first step back up to the apartment doors easily enough but as he tried to take the next he slipped and fell back sitting down on the third step and scraping his back on the forth.

Floyd was in front of him before he could blink.

"I've been waiting for you." Flanders grabbed at Spencer's wrist and pulled him to his feet. "I've been waiting hours. Have fun with your whore did you?"

Slowly shaking his head as he got to his feet again trying to stop Flanders from breaking his arm. "It wasn't what you think."

Spencer was being pushed back up the stairs and then through the doors at the top. "What wasn't Spence?" He shoved Reid against the wall and let go of him. "This is my thank you?"

"Floyd listen to me…."

"No – shut up. Just shut your dirty mouth and look at me. Take a long look because against my better judgment I did this for you. Washed! Holy cow Spence – I had a damned shower! And my clothes. Like them. Cost a fucking fortune so you better like them. My hair. Got it cut…I am clean and I smell like a fucking fairy and while I am torturing myself for you because I really believed you and I thought we had an understanding Spence – while I was doing this shit to myself you were with your little whore!"

Even through the fear and the stinging at the back of his eyes Reid could see that indeed Floyd looked bloody good and the vile smell which followed him around everywhere had gone. His teeth were clean. There was nothing black and disgusting behind his fingernails….his clothes which at first probably didn't look a lot different from every other pair of black bootcut trousers and white shirt, where different. The way the fitted in all of the right places….the suspenders looping over his shoulders…the deep cuffs with the double row of tiny pearl buttons…the hair. His hair was collar length and clean and tucked behind his ears. He looked bloody lovely.

Spencer let out a sigh.

"Floyd. Look there has been a misunderstanding is all. Let's go back to my place and we can relax and talk."

Floyd shook his head. "I can smell him on you. I can smell his sweat on you." He reached out and grabbed Spencer by the hair. "With me now. We need to pay your whore a visit."

Spencer put a hand over Floyd's and attempted to resist, but it just got yanked harder as Floyd pulled him towards the elevator. "Floyd please stop this…you will mess you your new stuff…let's just go home. Have a drink."

"I don't fancy that right now babes." He pressed the button to call the elevator. "I don't think I could relax not having laid this problem to rest first." The doors slid open. "Get in."

"No – I'm not doing this. I don't want to get in a fight with you Floyd. Just relax and ……" Floyd dragged Reid into the elevator. He held his hair slowly and spitefully twisting until the doors closed and then he let go.

"So tell me babes." He pushed Reid against the back wall of the small metal box. "What has he got that I haven't?"

"It's not a competition Floyd." Watching him carefully and getting ready to defend against what he knew would eventually come.

"Fucking well is! You like him to have you rather than me….I want to know why."

Reid bit down on his bottom lip. "He loves me."

"Shit! Is that it? Spence you pay him. He is a fucking cheep whore…I know…He blows me regularly…and he's not even all that good." Floyd pressed the stop button on the elevator and then stepped in close to Reid. "Do me."

"What?"

"Now. Get on your knees. I want you."

"No!"

"Do it or I will beat you senseless and take you."

Their noses were almost touching when Reid shook his head. "No."

"Spence – you are playing games with me. You are enjoying this." A smirk.

"N n no I'm ….."

"What? You want me to hit you? You do this so I will hit you? You like this?" Floyd's forehead made hard contact with Spencer's chin. It made a lovely cracking sound and when Floyd stood back from Spencer he was grinning a bit happy smile. "You like it! You dirty little masochist! Damn Spence this is why I love you so much…I can smack you around all I want and you come crawling back to me. How does Ardal feel about a bit of sexual pain babes."

Spencer hand a shaking hand on his chin and his eyes were huge as he slowly slipped down onto his knees and licked his lips.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8 More

Chapter 8

More

**A/N: Slight Slash Warning!!**

_All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better: - __Ralph Waldo Emerson _

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Floyd knelt down in front of Reid. "It's ok. Get up." He put a hand on Spencer's neck and he could feel the pulse of the blood rushing just under his skin and he remembered the sweet taste when he ripped into him. Not now…he had other things he had to do first. "I need to talk to Ardal."

Spencer was looking at the floor of the elevator. "Can we please just go home?"

Floyd's hand moved to under Reid's chin and he lifted the face so he could see Reid's eyes. "I need to tell him something and I would like you there when I say it. You both need to hear it."

Reid's eyes looked sad. Defeated.

"He hasn't done anything wrong. He – he – helped me Floyd."

Flanders bounced back to his feet again. "Well let's go tell him thank you then shall we? Then we can go home and you can thank me too. Don't worry – I will get you an energy drink from the store on the way back."

Spencer got to his feet too and pulled a puzzled face. "I don't need an energy drink Floyd."

A smirk and a finger resting on Reid's chest. "I know babes. Now let's go say thank you to Ardal shall we?"

Floyd and Spencer carried on their journey to Ardal's apartment. "Can we do this another time?"

His answer was Floyd taking him by the hand and squeezing gently.

Floyd paced quickly down to the door he knew he needed to be out side of. Reid took a reluctant position next to him.

"I still think…….."

"Shh…stop thinking so much and just go with the flow." Floyd gave two smart raps on the scruffy red door and turned to give Spencer a quick smile as the sound of the chain being removed could be heard the other side. The door swung open and the look on Ardal's face went from worried, to happy as he looked at Spencer, to surprise as he looked at Floyd.

"Spencer."

Floyd put a hand on Ardal's chest and pushed him back into the room fully so that they could enter.

"You are expecting someone. I will keep this quick." Floyd was still holding Reid's hand and he used the elbow on his other arm to push the door shut behind him. "Spencer here – my Spencer seems to be under the impression that he is helping you out by paying your rent."

Ardal took some hurried steps backwards. "Look I don't know what this is about. I've never asked Spencer for money."

"I doubt you have. Who would? I wouldn't ask him to pay me. I wouldn't insult him. That's not really the point is it Ardal. Who were you expecting?"

"Spencer…" Ardal's eyes moved away from Floyd and onto Spencer. "What's going on? I thought………"

"Thinking – too much thinking going on….did you two actually screw…or just sit thinking? Give me the money Spencer gave you." Floyd let go of Reid's hand and started to undo the buttons on the front of his own shirt. "Quickly Ardal. Quickly now."

Ardal was watching Floyd again now and slowly shaking his head. "I – I what business is it of yours?"

"The moment you put a fist in my face your life became forfeited. You my little whore are living on borrowed time. If you wish that time to go on beyond today you will get that money now. You will count it out for me and you will return it to Spencer." Floyd removed his shirt and placed it folded up by the door. "You will then tell Spencer who you were waiting for."

Spencer took hold of Floyd's arm – touching the brace gently. "What are you doing? Stop it Floyd. I offered the money….It's rent money is all."

Floyd flicked Spencer's hand out of the way. As he watched Ardal remove the money from the draw he had put it in earlier. As he counted it out into Spencer's hand he looked at the hazel eyes pleading with him not to say anything. There was only half the money there that Spencer had given him a few hours previously. Reid nodded and took the money and moved back out of the way.

"Right Spencer. Is it all there?"

Reid gave a slow nod but put the money down on Ardal's bed. "But I don't want it. I gave it to Ardal for……….."

"Rent! Sodding rent! So you are waiting for your land lord?" Floyd was rubbing at the fingers on his left hand. "Spence…he was paying off his dealer with the rent money."

"Now look – I don't think this has anything to do with you. The last thing I heard was Spencer telling you to keep away from him. What the hell is going on? Spencer – what's going on?"

Reid's eyes were locked on the money he had given Ardal. He had bought or was intending to buy drugs with the money he gave him…and the unwanted thoughts started racing through his mind. "Ardal – the money….wasn't for drugs – I won't pay for your drug habit. I'm sorry."

Floyd spoke again glancing from the money to Ardal and then looking at Spencer and a broad tooth filled grin spread across his face. "Spence babes…I will pay you back when we get home OK….Ardal consider that payment from me. I think there is a good hour's worth of fun laying on the bed there don't you?"

As Floyd moved in for Ardal – Reid backed off and stood with his back to the door, being careful not to tread on Floyd's shirt.

"Show me." Floyd licked his lips and placed a hand one on each of Ardal's hips.

"I don't understand." His voice was shaking, not quite sure what the hell was going on. He tried to look over the shoulder of the slightly shorter man at Spencer.

"I want to see what you do to Spencer. I want to watch." He turned his head slightly. "Spence babes over here. I've paid for a show – I expect it to be a good one."

Reid knew this was going to turn out bad. There was no way this could turn out good. Floyd was in one of his 'moods'. He stood against the door trying to get it to suck him through the wood and give him a way to escape, and at the same time he couldn't take his eyes off Floyd's bare back. "I – I don't think this – I can't." He muttered.

Ardal could see the smile of Floyd's face and feel the wandering hands pulling at his grubby denims and there was a strange smell and though he wanted to scream and fight this man off him, and he knew he could…he got him good last time, now, right now all he wanted to do was respond to the hands.

"Spence – over here. It wont be the first time you've preformed to an audience and I have a feeling it won't be the last. Just get over here and show me. You never know…I might forgive him – if I like what I see."

Though he didn't want to. Though he knew as a profiler genius that this was insanely stupid, that part of his brain which sometimes just took over made sure that he was walking forwards, kicking off his shoes as he went and pulling his shirt off over his head.

-o-o-o-

Hotch came to see what it was Garcia had found out. She had turned her computer chair so she was facing the door as he walked in and he could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"Garcia?" He could see wide sad eyes behind her glasses.

"Well I looked at one of them….and thought maybe it was a mistake, that you know it was his fathers, but then I looked at the next one. You did say this boy was ten didn't you?"

"What has he been watching?" Aaron walked and stood behind Garcia as she swivelled back round again to face the monitors.

"Pornography – and I understand that a child can be curious, but sir this stuff, it's sick. Very nasty sadomasochistic – and homoerotic and how did a child of ten get his hands on so much of this stuff? And why is a child of ten interested in it?!" She stared at the blank screen. "I suppose you need to see it." Her finger with the long red nail on it was poised over the play button.

"Garcia." Hotch put a hand on her shoulder. "I need to see the contents of it – yes, but I don't have to do that here. I'll look at them in my office." He frowned thinking that might have sounded not quite right. "Actually I will use the screen in the briefing room. Thank you." He squeezed her shoulder. She had seen enough nasty porn recently he didn't need to put her through more. "I need you to try to trace the natural father of Sam Trent-Saviour. Let me know what you turn up."

She was piling all the discs up for Aaron to take away with him. "No more notes or anything? What do you think the chances are that he is still alive?"

"I can't really say. It's not good though. We should have heard from them again by now."

Garcia nodded. "He probably freaked them out!" And she did a pretend smile trying to make the atmosphere feel less oppressive.

Hotch nodded and with one hand picked up the discs and with the other pushed a bit of hair off his forehead. He needed a hair cut but finding time for such luxuries was out of the question right now. He needed to get Morgan and Rossi and they needed to go through these recordings and try to work out where the boy had got them from. As far as they could tell he had no access to a computer.

A sigh "Thank you Penelope. I know things have been hard recently."

She smiled. "It's part of the job sir, but thank you. Appreciated."

Hotch looked at her for a few more seconds then turned and went to find Dave and Derek.

There was in actuality hours of recordings to go through and after an hour of stunned silence Hotch decided it was enough. It was late – they were all tired and tomorrow more questions could be asked. They still didn't know where the boy slept. It was agreed that Hotch and Reid – who was due in the next day – would go back to the house and maybe talk to nanny Lopez again and ask more about computer access and where on earth the boy had gotten the DVD's from. Maybe they would have more information on the child's birthfather by then, if Garcia could find anything and Rossi wanted to find Floyd – he was sure Reid would know where he was and take Morgan with him and ask what he meant when he said they wouldn't find Sam.

He needed to know if either Floyd had some kind of twisted connection with the boy or if Reid had been talking – or Prentiss even. Emily was going to be liaising with a clockmaker who she would take to the boy's room to try to see if there was any significance in what the child had been doing.

With this all decided they packed up for the night.

Morgan was going to go and have a quick alcohol free drink in the bar near to where he lived and look at the girls and maybe flirt a bit.

Dave was going home to his dogs and to watch Donnie Brasco. He also had a new book which had been delivered – photographs – an arty book really – but the theme had been 'hunting with the dogs' and so it appealed to him. He was going to sit in bed with a cocoa after the movie and flick through the pages.

Aaron was going to see if Rosie was around. He had a feeling she was out of town, but either way he could chat with her either face to face or on the telephone.

Prentiss was going home to shower and have a light snack of grilled chicken and potato slices and she would spend the rest of her evening doing what she did every night….standing looking out of her big apartment windows and staring out into the shadows hoping above all hopes that she would see him tonight.

-o-o-o-

Reid was pressed hard against Ardal who was also shirtless now. It was over powering. His body just took total control of him. He knew this was wrong. This was not him. He shouldn't be doing this. He should be resisting, but he could smell the sweat of Ardal and the scent of Floyd and it caused a total meltdown of Reid's self control. He could feel hands sliding down the back of his trousers and now one moving around to the front to release his belt buckle. Then it happened.

A kiss on the back of his neck and another pair of hands. These ones rougher and calloused and one of them braced. He could feel a mouth kissing and moving down the side of his neck and another on his ear and if arms hadn't been holding him tightly in place pressed harder from behind now against Ardal he would have melted into a puddle on the floor right there. Every nerve ending tingled with lust (?) – was this just lust? He just knew that he was completely incapable of rational thought at this point. He tipped his head back and made strange noises from the back of his throat as Ardal nibbled and licked his neck and shoulder and Floyd pushed his way into Reid from behind whilst looking into Ardal's green eyes.

They stayed like this swapping sweat and saliva then as Floyd howled and Reid forced himself back harder and Ardal suck and licked at Reid's mouth and twisted Floyd's hair around his fingers it was suddenly all change.

Reid was pulled out of the way and Floyd took his place.

Spencer took his place behind Floyd and leaned over Floyd's shoulder so he could lip lock with Ardal and one hand on Floyd's chest the other on the side of Ardal's face.

That didn't last though. Floyd took Ardal by the shoulder and turned him to face the wall. Ardal placed the palms of his hands on the rough painted wall. Small kissed on Ardal's ear from Floyd were delivered with small messages. "You ever touch my Spence again and I will rip your filthy throat out." And a bite on the man's shoulder. "I am going to forgive your actions when – oh hell Spence….."

Reid was on his knees behind Floyd kissing and licking and sucking at every bit of flesh he could find. And for once the flesh tasted good and Spencer felt the urge to bite a bit harder than maybe he might have on a stinking Floyd. He could taste the soap and the sweat and Spencer made small noises not quite a whimper and not quite a moan as he felt Floyd's bare flesh against his skin.

Floyd spoke to Ardal again. "I forgive you. Just don't touch him again – unless I am with him."

If Ardal had wanted to answer he couldn't. There were no words left in his brain….he was just a moaning shaking mess being treated to a Floydian fuck.

They left and Floyd made no promises that he would return. He did however tell Ardal that Spencer wouldn't be returning alone. Spencer would not be giving him any more money. If he wanted money Floyd would provide it, but he had to play by the rules and they stipulated no injecting drugs and no cocaine. He left a pile of smokes for him.

"You will find they will get you past any cravings you might have and they are all herbal. They won't hurt. I'm not going to support someone with a drug habit. Get clean. Get a job."

Ardal was pulling on a pair of sweat pants and eyeing up the pile of hand rolled smokes. "And you became my social worker when?"

"When you took money from my man – at that point you became my business. Pay off your dealer and move out of his hole. Get a job washing dishes if you have to. Clean up and I will pay your rent. Fuck up and I will rip your face off and eat your internal organs."

Spencer was standing at the door dressed again with Floyd's shirt in his hand.

-o-o-o-

The morning and Reid was standing in his apartment just about to leave.

"Babes – I'll take you in on the bike."

Spencer turned to face Floyd and bit on his bottom lip. "I don't think that's a good idea. Hotch wouldn't like that you spent the night here."

"How has it got anything to do with him?" Floyd was frowning.

Reid shook his head. "Well I just think I need to prove that you're not effecting my ability to think straight."

A very rare laugh came from Floyd. "Well it's lucky we didn't invite him around to Ardal's last night." Floyd walked to Reid and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You know he watches you."

"I know."

"It's why I don't want him touching you."

"I know that too."

"But maybe we could invite him over for – erm – well entertainment."

"I think that is a very bad idea." Spencer pushed a bit of Floyd's hair back behind his ear.

"Well you do too much thinking and not enough doing. At least consider it."

Spencer just shook his head. "No. I'm sorry."

"You're not even the slightest bit curious?"

Another shake of the head. "He is my boss. To think of him like that is ridiculous."

"You like it when I tell you what to do though. Do you like Hotchner ordering you around? Do you say 'how high' when he tells you to jump?"

A small frown crossed Spencer's brow. "I have the deepest respect for Hotch. If he tells me to do something it will be for a reason."

"Just go to work genius. And consider it. Next time you are standing near him take in the scent, see how he feels….have a shower after work. I'll let you this once. Tell me what happens."

"Floyd….don't forget to shower and clean your teeth and for me one more thing – Emily – leave her alone."

* * *


	9. Chapter 9 Dirt

Chapter 9

Dirt

_Another form of "breath play" is increasingly common among adolescent and young adults. Most commonly known as the "choking game," it involves voluntary choking, throttling, or near-hanging in order to enjoy the altered sensations that occur as the "player" becomes unconscious. Other slang names at this writing include "flatline," "space monkey," and "suffocation roulette."_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Reid was his normal slightly early self at work that morning. He was feeling good. Better than he had in such a long time. He was happy. It wasn't a confused front he was putting on. It wasn't a weird barrier of not quite understanding everything and so smiling to hide it. Today he felt happy. He felt safe.

He dropped the strap of his messenger bag over the back of his chair and walked to the coffee machine.

From behind the big window with the blind pulled just so, Hotch was watching. He could see something was different with Spencer today….he hadn't seen that look on his face in a long time. Probably not since he started the BAU. This job had gradually eroded the innocence which he had initially found so damned seductive….even though poor Spencer didn't realise it. Aaron smiled and watched this new relaxed vision walk back to his desk with a half smile on his face. Hotch wondered what had happened for this sudden change. After all he had been through. All the crap constantly being thrown at him, what had happened to make him look slightly less tired looking?

He hoped it was because now finally he was free of Floyd. That man had been influencing Reid for a lot longer than any of them realised. He just hoped that Rossi asking him if he knew where Floyd was wouldn't upset this nice new relaxed Spencer.

Reid knew Hotch was watching him. He did every morning if he was in before him. He stood staring at him through the window thinking that he wouldn't know he was there. Indeed he couldn't see him, but he could feel the eyes watching him. The same feeling as when he was in the showers and that thought brought a semi smile to his face. Something was going to happen to mess this all up, he knew it. There were no options really…the hands of fate had screwed with him by giving him the memory of a god and the skill a lot of people would kill for but to keep this balance it fobbed him off with a crappy childhood….an abusive father….and schizophrenic mother, and a sexuality which in his mid twenties he still hadn't had the guts to admit. It took Floyd drugging and raping him to finally realise that was who he was.

Spencer sat down and looked at the file in front of him. It was all the information they had so far on the child Sam and a bigger list of unknowns. He ran his finger and eyes quickly over it and then closed it. No photographs. What sort of family didn't have childhood pictures? And again he was reminded of himself and his complete lack of normal upbringing. It looked as though Hotch wanted him to go back and pick around some more. He took the file in his hand and stood. He counted to ten….give Hotch time to sit down again, and then with a deep breath he walked to Aaron's office.

He tapped on the glass of the door before entering….he didn't wait for Hotch to say he could go in…this time of the morning it didn't seem necessary. He never did. As always Hotch was sitting behind his desk.

"Reid…something I can help you with?" He didn't even look up.

"The file on my desk…The Sam Trent-Saviour case. I was wondering if I am to return to the home. I would like to talk to the nanny."

Now Hotch looked up. "We are both going. I need you to properly familiarise yourself with the case Spencer. You have been absent for some of it."

"I read the file." He tapped the file he was holding to his chest. "There wasn't much information. There are no photos of the boy?"

Hotch shook his head. "Just a description."

An expectant nod from Reid as Hotch opened up a file to his right and flipped through the paper. Average height for a boy….whatever that means….shoulder length dark hair which he usually tucks behind his ears….dark eyes…small effeminate face. Pale skin."

Reid's eyes had gone very big. "And he is adopted?"

"An 'in family' adoption. It's in the file. I thought you had read it."

A quick nod. "I have. I was just double checking the information.

"I want us to go and talk some more to the nanny and to see where the boy sleeps. He has a large collection of violent pornography. Uh as Garcia put it 'homoerotic'."

"Ah." Reid put the file he was holding onto Hotch's desk and wrapped his arms around himself defensively.

"If you don't think you are up to this yet…."

"I am. It's alright…I just wasn't expecting that from someone so young. That's very abnormal." And Reid was feeling so uncomfortable about this whole situation suddenly that he needed to get out of Aaron's office. He could feel his head spinning and bile rising in his throat. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face. Spencer blinked and quickly snatched up the file again. "If you will excuse me then. I will make note of that in the file.

He turned and left before Hotch could see how pale he had suddenly gone.

Hotch stood as Spencer left and watched him slap the file down on his desk and at a virtual run make for the men's room. He really wasn't sure if Reid should be back at work, but here he knew that Spencer was physically safe….if not emotionally.

Reid hurtled to the men's room and threw himself into the nearest stool…. He slammed the door behind him and just stood with his back against it. "I can do this…I don't know why I am freaking out over it." He then knelt on the floor and brought up the three mugs of coffee he had drunk that morning. "This is stupid. I'm not going to let it effect me for the rest of my life." He stood and again leaned on the door after flushing away the mess he had vomited down the pan. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a slip of chewing gum and bit down on it angrily. Vomit breath at work was not the best thing to have. His cell phone was in his messenger bag. He needed to make a call in private.

Spencer wiped a forearm over his sweaty brow and opened the toilet door. Still no one there. He had been half expecting Morgan to be standing there, but he was probably not in work yet. He walked quickly now to the bullpen and back to his desk. Again he could feel Hotch watching him. He would see him take the cell out of the bag. He would ask questions and right now Spencer thought Hotch would be right to ask them. He took the phone out anyway and turned and went to the day room.

For a full five minutes he just sat with the cell phone in his hand. Then he flipped it open and dialled his own home number. It rang until the answer phone came on. "Floyd pick up…I need to talk to you."

"Spence?"

He must have been standing next to the phone.

"I have to ask you some questions Floyd and I don't want you to get mad with me…I just need you to be honest."

Breathing at the other end but no words.

"Floyd? Are you there?"

"I'm listening."

"You said something to Rossi about the missing child, Sam."

Again just breathing.

"Floyd, what do you know about it? I know you know something. You have to tell me. Do you know the boy?"

"I sort of know him. It's really not important." A sigh.

"He is missing Floyd, do you know anything about his disappearance?"

"I don't want you to over react Spence. I'd rather not talk to you about this on the phone."

"I need you to come into the office. Clean your teeth, brush your hair and wear something nice….and get down here as soon as you can."

"Not sure that's the best idea babes."

"What are you hiding? What have you done? How do you know Sam?"

Heavy breathing. "Too many questions. Spence I have no idea where he is…and I've never met him. That's all I need to say really."

"You said you sort of know him."

"You talk in your sleep."

Now Spencer's turn to be silent.

"Spence – It's alright – I won't tell anyone."

Reid snapped his phone shut and sat with his head back and his eyes closed. He was relieved – if Floyd was telling the truth that he had no connection. He was far less happy that he talked about the case in his sleep.

-o-o-o-

They stood in the main reception room of the huge – well it was more than a house – but the room which was used most often by the family. Reid was wandering around looking at the bits sitting around on shelves and small tables and in display cabinets. There were no pictures on the wall of anything. The walls were taken up by taxidermy of all kinds and animal pelts. The huge couch was a very soft leather and all the light fittings were table lamps. There was no central overhead lighting at all. The ceiling was high and painted dark. The drapes were open but the glass beyond was leaded and each pane a different shade of orange and reds. To say that the room was oppressive was an understatement. How anyone could feel relaxed in it was a puzzle. The strange smell of age and mould and the ting of musk didn't help.

They had wanted to talk to the mother again, but apparently she was out. The father reluctantly joined them. He looked dishevelled and tired but he still tried to be polite.

"Gentlemen – can I get you anything?" He asked as he entered the room.

"No thank you. This is Dr Reid, I don't think you've met."

Spencer turned at the sound of the voice and did a tight smile and a wave.

"We were hoping to talk to the nanny." Hotch began.

Jules stood just inside the door way staring at Reid – who had also noticed something strange and was giving Hotch quick sideways glances and moving slowly towards his boss.

It didn't go un-noticed and Hotch frowned at Jules and then looked at Reid who was still moving slowly in his direction with his arms tightly wrapped around himself.

"Is there a problem here?" Hotch didn't like the look of what was going on. "Do you two know each other?"

"Never met him before. Why would I have?"

Reid was now right at Hotch's side. Too close. He had been right – it had been too early for Spencer to come back to work. Reid's eyes were locked on the man who was still standing unmoving in the doorway.

"Reid?" Hotch put a hand out and gently touched Spencer on the elbow.

A quick shake of the head.

"I'm sorry Mr Trent-Saviour – can you give me a moment alone with my Agent?"

The man who was still watching Spencer closely said nothing, but turned and left the room again – closing the door behind him.

Hotch gave Spencer a chance to say something and when he didn't he turned to face him. "What was that all about?"

Spencer stood staring at the door.

"Reid – you have seen him before?"

"Hotch. No – I don't think so, just there was something about him. Something wrong. His eyes."

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "You are acting like this because of the man's eyes?"

Spencer just shook his head. "Hotch?" Reid could feel the room slowly start to spin. "I - can't - breathe."

Aaron watched as his agent took a step back away from him a look of pure terror on his face as one of his hands lifted to his throat and he started to take little sharp breaths of stale air. Spencer started a rambling stagger backwards knocking into furniture as he went. Aaron moved forwards quickly to try to calm Spencer down who looked like he was having a panic attack. He reached him just as Reid's eyes rolled back and he fell into an untidy lump of legs and arms on the rug next to the big red couch.

-o-o-o-

The interview with Trent-Saviour was over.

Hotch was standing in front of the property with Reid sitting on low wall next to him. His head in his hands. He was shaking and trying to talk to Hotch.

"It – it wasn't – wasn't a p p panic attack."

"I'll take you home when you are ready. You obviously need more time." Hotch felt for Reid. Not a good thing to happen…passing out at work when trying to interview someone. He could see the little strip of pale flesh on the back of Reid's neck where his now damp with sweat hair had parted as he leaned forward. The nape of his neck. It was shiny with moisture and the urge to reach down and just touch it – run his finger over it – was making his stomach hurt. Hotch looked away from Reid and over at a big old tree in the middle of the lawn.

"Please – Hotch – it wasn't what you think." Hotch glanced over at Spencer who was looking up at him with big damp eyes. Huge eyes. Scared eyes.

Aaron looked away again quickly. "You need to go home and relax. You fainted Reid. You're not ready to be back in the field. I'll take you home and make sure you have everything you need."

Spencer bit on his bottom lip. He really could do without taking Hotch home now. Floyd would be there. He wouldn't be able to warn him. This just wasn't working out as he thought it would. He didn't bother arguing with Aaron though. There just seemed no point in trying to tell him that it felt as though someone had stuffed their hand down his throat. He could still feel it. Something there, something hard stopping him from taking a breath and the eyes – Trent-Saviour's eyes.

Hotch made calls to Prentiss and Rossi to tell them that he was leaving with Reid. He asked Prentiss to carry on with the chat with the father and find out where the boy sleeps and to also find out where Lopez was. He then looked back over at Spencer who had stopped shaking but had his head back in his hands and was rocking slowly back and forth. He needed to get him in the car and back home. Then he had every intention of calling in some favours and getting a doctor out there to talk to him. As much as he wanted him back at work and as much as he felt Spencer was safer if he was in his line of sight this just was not going to work. It crossed his mind that maybe he needed to be somewhere residential for a short while. Somewhere completely safe but now Floyd was gone he was sure things would pick up.

Spencer was stronger than people might think. He wasn't nearly as vulnerable as he looked.

They journey back to Spencer's place took about two hours. It was taken mostly in silence. Aaron tried to talk to him but got grunts and shrugs as most of the replies.

Reid was trying to work out how to get into his apartment and not have Hotch find his house guest. He felt deceitful and dishonest and it made his heart thud so hard in his chest that he thought he was going to explode.

"Pull over." He suddenly said.

"I can't pull over here Reid. I'm listening if you need to talk."

He pressed the window button and watched as the window opened much too slowly. As the last bit of glass disappeared into the car door Reid leaned out and vomited over the side of Aaron's SUV. He marvelled at the amount he managed to eject from what he thought was an empty stomach. It sprayed down the side of the black vehicle in shiny green slithers. He didn't feel Hotch slowing down and didn't even notice that they had stopped - all he knew was something had happened at the house to make him feel like he never wanted to return. The very thought of going back there made him heave and spew yet more of nothing but slime from somewhere deep down inside.

Spencer felt the hand on his back. It felt cold through the dampness of his white shirt. It felt gentle. It didn't move. It didn't dig in fingernails it just rested on his back.

Hotch sat looking at his hand on Spencer's back. He wanted to pull Reid to him and offer him comfort but he knew Reid hated being touched and now his hand was on that damp and shaking back he could feel Spencer's heart thumping and he could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Slowly he removed his hand.

"I think I should take you to see a doctor." Hotch was looking at the back of Reid's neck again.

"I just need to go home and lay down."

Spencer heard Hotch sigh and then felt the movement of the car again. "We are about half an hour away."

Reid didn't answer. He sat with his head against the head rest and pulled a slither of gum out of his pocket and once again attempted to get rid of his vomit breath.

-o-o-o-

"Reid." A voice somewhere in the back of his mind. "Reid." And now someone had a hand on his arm. "We are here."

Spencer opened his eyes and looked out of the open window. "Thank you Hotch." He pressed the button to let the window rise up again. "I'll call." And he opened the car door.

"I'm coming up with you. I need to make sure you are alright."

Reid tried to look Ok – but the sweat was running down the sides of his face and his hands were shaking. "I will be fine."

"I'm sure you will – and I am going to make sure of it." Hotch got out of his side of the car and Spencer out of his.

"Sorry about the car." He muttered at the mess down the side.

Then with a heavy heart and a resigned feeling in his mind he walked to his apartment doors.

-o-o-o-

He had his key in his hand ready to slide into the lock when his door swung open.

Floyd stood there in an apron with a wooden spoon in his hand.

Hotch stared at him. "Flanders."

Reid just walked into the apartment ignoring everything. It was too much. He wanted to shower. He had to get under the shower. He was stripping off his clothes as he walked down the passage staggering to the bathroom.

Floyd looked at Hotch and then at Spencer and back at Hotch. "What the hell's wrong with him?"

Aaron ignored him and stepped into the apartment and with a grin on his face Floyd wasn't going to stop him.

"He fainted." Was all Hotch said. He was going to get into an argument about Flanders being here and obviously so well settled in. He needed to know that Reid was alright.

Floyd closed the door and put the locks in place. The spoon he slipped into his apron pocket and as he walked he undid the ties and pulled it off throwing it towards the kitchen.

Hotch was about to enter the bathroom Spencer had walked into when he felt the hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't." The voice hissed into Hotch's ear.

"Get your hand off me Flanders. I want to see if he is alright."

"No – this is our home and you will not be telling me what to do."

Hotch turned to face him. He could hear the water running in the bathroom. "Your home?"

"My home and I didn't invite you in." Floyd leaned in as he spoke so his nose was almost touching Aaron's. He licked his lips and then moved a hand up to Aaron's face. "So you watch him – you wait for him in the showers so you can see his wet skin."

"Pardon?" Oh god what did this man know.

"Do you wish you could run your tongue down his spine and taste his sweetness? He tastes sweet. I know…I get to run my tongue over his pure white flesh."

Hotch took a step back and Floyd's other hand came up and with one tug loosened Aaron's tie. "Get your hands off me!" And Hotch made to reach for his sidearm.

"Going to shoot me? You are going to shoot me out of jealousy? You hate it that I have Spencer don't you. Go ahead ….try it….shoot me Hotchner. Take all you pent up frustrations out on me. All those times you sat and listened to him soaping up in the showers." Floyd's thumb was massaging the side of Hotch's face. "All those times you sat and watched that towel slip a bit too low." Floyd lowered his voice. "He does that on purpose. He is a dirty little boy you know." Moving in again and talking in Hotch's ear. "You don't want to shoot me do you? How would Spence feel if he came out of the shower and you had put a hole in me? It would look sooooooo bad."

Hotch was pushed up against the wall now – his head spinning as though drugged by some invisible gas. The strong Flanders smell invading every pore of his skin. He took in a deep shuddering breath and felt his side arm being removed. He heard a distant 'clunk' as it hit the floor somewhere.

"Turn around." And Floyd licked Hotch's ear. "Now and let me show you what you have been missing."

A voice behind Floyd distracted him.

"What are you doing?" Spencer sounded a bit out of it and slurred his words. It was enough for Hotch to be able to move to the side and try to get to his ankle holster.

"This." Was Floyd's reply as his knee met Aaron's face. The loud cracking sound made Spencer want to be sick again – made Hotch fall over backwards and made Floyd smirk.

"Well done Spence. I need you to join in though."

Reid shook his head. "This isn't how it was meant to be Floyd."

"I know babes, but he resisted me, and I don't take kindly to rejection."

"I know." And a sigh. "But Floyd this is rape." As Flanders bent down to pull off Hotch's shoes, Spencer put a hand on his shoulder. "Please don't do this."

Floyd turned to look at Spencer. "Fine…I will play with you first."

Reid's eyes went suddenly big. "No – just go back to cooking. I will sort this."

The hands wrapped around Spencer's throat as Flanders pushed him against the wall Hotch had just been standing against. Floyd held on tightly as the towel Reid had been wearing slipped to the floor.

"Dirty – you are a little bit of filth." He squeezed harder with his fingers and pressed his body against Spencer. "You love it." Release and squeeze. "When you finally die Spencer, this will be what it was all about. _'Erotic experimentation: Some people experiment with hypoxia as a means of intensifying orgasm. Marquis de Sade first described this practice in his writings. Autoerotic play using a ligature or noose to produce hypoxia during masturbation can result in accidental strangulation. Sado-masochistic activities can also result in inadvertent death.' _You will be found hanging from a dirty motel door one day." Floyd adjusted the way he was standing. "And the world will know what a dirty pervert you really are."

He could hear Hotch moaning now and could see movement. He let go of Reid and let him flop to the floor and was on Hotch before he could make another move.

"You are mine." He hissed and put a foot down on Hotch's ankle. He bent down and removed the gun. "Now we are going to play. This is why you came here isn't it? So I could give you what you have wanted to give Spence for so long?"

He flipped the still groggy Hotch over onto his front and sat down astride him on the backs of his legs. One hand reached up and grabbed the back of his jacket. He pulled back on it pulling it away and down off his arms. He threw it to the side.

Now his hands slipped up under his shirt. His skin was soft under Floyd's hard calloused ones. He dug in his nails with one hand and moved the other under Hotch to unfasten his belt. With experienced hands it was easy. Even with the brace on he was finding this wasn't too much of a hindrance. Being able to choke Spencer with it on made him feel good. Made him feel very good. He was going to enjoy this.

Flanders pulled at Hotch's clothing and as he moaned again and started to wriggle Floyd took his thick dark hair in his good hand and lifted his head from the wooden floor. He then cracked it down hard. Then repeated. Then repeated again.

And again.

Until he felt the cartilage give way in Aaron's nose and the wriggling stopped again.

Floyd changed positions and pushed Hotch's pale blue work shirt up so he could see the skin. As he moved in he licked at the skin and sucked at it and as he forced himself on and into Aaron he felt something behind him. Something touching his back. Something sitting behind him and licking at his ear and whispering.

"I love it when you talk dirty."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10 Seduction

Chapter 10

Seduction

**A/N: Slight Slashy Undertones. NonCon**

_Seduction is often difficult to distinguish from rape. In seduction, the rapist often bothers to buy a bottle of wine: - __Andrea Dworkin _

Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

The rush.

It was incredible and he knew that Floyd did it for that reason and though logically he knew it was not the best course of action to take right now, it was the only one he could and Spencer was not willing to let this feeling of absolute euphoria dissipate and become nothing as he lay on the floor with every part of his body demanding satisfaction.

It as better than an orgasm. It was better than the best blow job he had ever been given - it was beyond description and Floyd had done this for him – and yes Floyd was probably right, it would one day kill him, but right now he felt very much alive.

He crawled over to where Floyd was. He could see the back of his shirt sticking to a line of sweat down his back. He could see where his shirt had come slightly untucked at the back and this is what he headed for. The other pair of legs were irrelevant. They served him no purpose other than something to sit on.

As Floyd leaned forward so his could reach the warm back of Hotchner, Spencer slid one hand up the back of Floyd's shirt and the other around his front touching with quick fingers that bit of damp sweaty flesh just beneath Floyd's navel. He heard a groan of pleasure as Spencer moved in time to the rhythm Floyd was keeping. He wanted him so much.

He needed him and as his fingers began to dig and find something to push against he could hear Floyd's strange over excited yelps as he reached his climax.

One of Floyd's hands was holding Hotch's head firmly onto the floor whilst with his right hand he pulled at Hotch's shirt needing to get to his shoulder. Needing to be able to sink his teeth into that well toned flesh. Not too hard. Just enough to break that skin and taste the blood. The shirt ripped along the side seams and there it was. As Spencer moved his hand to enhance the sensation he bit down and sucked and howled and cried out and Spencer was now leaning forwards whispering in his ear and asking when he could have a turn.

He could feel someone on his back. He could feel something was very wrong, but his head was spinning and he was finding it hard to think. Hotch was sure that he had been in Spencer's apartment – so what the hell had happened?

Hotch tried to move but he was well and truly pinned down by someone behind him. He suddenly realised what was going on – what had been going on and he attempted to move and roll over and push the attacker off him. He could feel hands on his shoulders and breath on the back of his neck. Deep heavy breathing. He had to get away – he wasn't going to let his happen to him. Aaron could remember that Floyd had been there in the apartment and this was how Hotch's logic reasoned that it was Flanders doing this to him. Reid had been in the shower. He was sick. He needed to get to Reid. He needed to protect him from this animal.

Two things happened at about the same time. The hand moved off his shoulder and rested on the floor next to his head. He could see it clearly and something kicked him hard in the back of the head. The hand moved again suddenly as pinpricks of light flashed across his vision and he blacked out.

Floyd stood and just watched for a little while. He hadn't been completely expecting this to happen and for a few minutes it amused him to watch Spencer being so beside himself with lust he would have screwed a sheep – but this was Hotchner. This was the person he didn't want touching Reid and though strictly speaking Reid was the one doing the touching he still didn't like it.

"Get of him Spence. He's going to wake up."

Big hazel eyes looked over at Floyd who was tucking his shirt back in.

"Get off him. Go and shower. I'll sort this out. Then we can eat." Floyd picked up Spencer's towel off the floor and threw it at him. "Get off him before I kick you off."

"Floyd!" Spencer moved back away from Hotch so he was kneeling with one knee either side of Hotch's legs.

"Get in the shower and pleasure yourself. You pervert."

"I…….." Reid's voice was begging. He expression on his face pleading.

"You nothing. He's not yours so get off. He's your boss Spence. How's that going to look in the office on Monday?"

Reid grabbed the towel and stood holding it in front of him. "I'll have a shower." He muttered and walked to the bathroom slamming the door and locking it behind him.

Floyd reached down to Hotch and turned him over onto his back and looked down at him. "Well Agent Aaron Hotchner. I have one more party trick up my proverbial sleeve. You don't have to move. But I think you can probably hear me…somewhere in you mind you can hear me. You might not remember it properly which is a shame because people have paid me a lot of money for me to do to you what I'm gonna."

Reid stood again under the shower only this time he had different feelings running through his mind. What Floyd had suggested…what Floyd had said. He put a hand to his throat and touched it where he could feel the places bruised would form. He needed that feeling again. He needed his mind to go places drugs had never even started to take him. With the shower still running he looked around the bathroom quickly. His trousers lay on the floor where he had stepped out of them. The belt still threaded through the loops. He picked up the end of the belt and pulled it free. For a little while he just held it in his hand. He slid the end into the buckle and placed the belt over his head.

He had no intention of doing anything. It was just to see how it felt but he pulled it tight anyway – just to see. Spencer glanced around the bathroom thinking….working it out for next time.

-o-o-o-

He pulled Aaron's clothes back on a bit better – thought there was nothing he could do about the ripped shirt…or the bite marks…or the bloodied nose…but they could have happened in a scrap…it didn't mean anything. He put his hand under Hotch's arms and dragged him to the lounge…then flopped him down onto the couch.

He paused and looked across to the passage leading down to the bathroom. Something was wrong.

He looked back at Hotchner and moved in quickly running his tongue over the sleeping mans face. He could taste the blood and sweat. Really he should clean that up. He didn't taste as sweet as Spencer, but blood it blood in the end. He sat on the couch next to the still form of Spencer's boss and ran his fingers over the blood which had come from the broken nose.

He looked down towards the bathroom again.

"Spencer….noooo."

He stood slowly, keeping one hand still on Hotch and tucked his hair behind his ears with his left hand.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He started to run. His bad heel forgotten as it cracked under the strain of the run. Skidding to a stop at the bathroom door he hammered on it.

"Spencer – let me in."

He could hear the sound of the water running. That was what was wrong. It was flowing, but it wasn't splashing or being disturbed.

"Spence! Open the door before I break it in."

Silence.

"Crap."

He took a step back and shouldered the door. It popped open easily enough. Reid was sitting on the floor next to the shower cubical. His arms were wrapped tightly around him and his towel lay across his lap. The belt was on the floor next to him.

"Spence?"

He knelt down in front of him.

"Floyd – what have we done?"

Flanders put a hand out and touched Reid on the arm. "Nothing. You've done nothing. But Spencer this…" He picked up the belt. "Not unless I'm with you. OK? Never on your own."

"Hotch."

"Don't worry about him. We hand a fight. I won – as usual…he will come round and we will make up and have food. Now you shower and leave this door open and don't you ever think about playing this game if I'm not with you."

Spencer shook his head. The very idea of it now seemed insane. "I won't …not even with you. I can assure you of that."

"Shower….you smell of puke still, and I can smell, well….it's making me want to eat you…so if you don't mind."

Floyd pulled the towel away and wriggled in a bit closer. Spencer relaxed and placed his hands on the top of Floyd's head.

-o-o-o-

Hotch had a headache. Not just the normal slight thump after a hard day at the office but a headache that felt like something had hit him hard. His face was in agony and he reached up and touched the stickiness of blood around his nose and mouth.

"Flanders." He muttered to himself as he slowly pushed himself up to sitting. Pain shot through him. The sort of pain he had never experienced before and didn't think he ever wanted to again. He took in a deep gasp of breath and ran his hands over his chest trying to work out why most of his buttons were popped off and his belt was done up too loosely. Gently he touched his nose to assess the damage. He thought it might have been broken, but it was hard to tell with the swelling coming up now. He also discovered a big lump on the back of his head.

Carefully he got to his feet. His hand went to his holster. He had been disarmed. Not really a surprise. He could tell that his spare had gone too. He closed his eyes and tried to get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach.

He could hear quiet voices. More than one. Just mutterings. He couldn't make out words. As quietly as he could he walked towards where the voices where coming from.

The bathroom…talking from the bathroom. Flanders and Reid talking to each other. He frowned as he listened. Not the sort of words he was expecting from Floyd. He had only ever heard filth and insults coming from him, but now he could hear another side of him as he talked quietly to his junior agent.

"You will be fine babes. I'm with you."

"I know – I know – it just freaked me out."

"Hey – a lot has happened to you. This is all new shit babes….things will freak you out. It's ok."

"I thought I would be fine with Hotch but I couldn't even look in that man's eyes."

"Hey – it's alright. He spooked you is all – and this weather is oppressive – and the atmosphere wrong."

"I'll have to hand in my badge."

"No babes. You will have to get better – then go back to work. You're not ready – why did they let you back so soon?"

"I cheated my eval. I couldn't help it! It just happens that way."

"Then you need to explain to Hotchner or Rossi. I don't want you going back to work yet."

It was at this point that Hotch walked into the bathroom.

"Care to explain?" Hotch sounded very pissed off. Reid looked up at his boss standing in the open door way. Floyd swivelled around so he could see Aaron.

"Explain what?" He asked as he got to his feet and dropped the towel back onto Reid's lap.

"This." Gesturing around the bathroom. "And this." Pulling at his shirt.

Reid just stared.

"The bathroom situation – uh – I was giving Spence a blow job. Your shirt – well I had to rip it so I could get to you when I raped you."

Hotch stood looking at Spencer who looked back and blinked. He thought the floor was going to come up and smack him in the face again. The room spun and he put out a hand to steady himself. He could feel the broken lock for the bathroom door under his shaking fingers.

"Agent Aaron Hotchner – please don't say you don't remember! All that hard work….." a smirk. "You are staying for dinner I hope. It's a Hungarian dish I used to cook a lot back in Europe. Sorry no cauldron to cook it in…and I have swapped around some of the ingredients…but basically it's mix between the famous soup make with chicken heart and liver…and the stew….so yeah…heart and liver stew….You up for some?"

Hotch was shaking his head. This man had just admitted to raping him and was standing there smiling at him offering him food? He was more insane than he had feared he was.

He moved away from the door. He need back up…and he needed it quickly.

"Don't even think about using your cell. It wont be you I will hurt it will be him." Pointing at Reid.

Spencer pulled his legs up tightly towards him but kept his eyes on Hotch.

"What are you going to tell them? That Reid's little faggot friend got the better of you and took you numerous times? You want me to add to that….tell them how Reid joined in and how you actually enjoyed it?"

Hotch looked at Spencer whose eyes seemed to have doubled in size.

Aaron swallowed. "I would love to see the look on Morgan's face when I tell him…or why not bring that dirty little Emily around. I'm sure she will side with me – she is a hot little bit of slapper."

"Well? Are you going to use your cell? Who are you going to call?"

Hotch refused to be intimidated by this man. He had forgotten that he was BAU…he was FBI trained….he knew all about people like Flanders and they couldn't put the frighteners on him. As he pulled the cell from his jacket pocket he watched Flanders turn around and look down at Spencer.

"Spence babes….sorry. He made me do it."

Reid let out an 'umph' as the booted foot made contact with Reid's ribs. He slid sideways onto the bathroom floor and squeezed his eyes shut as the boot met rib again.

"Stop!" Hotch was putting the cell back in his pocket. "Just leave him alone. You have a problem with me…then we deal with it. Leave him out of it."

"Then you are staying for dinner?"

"Just leave Reid alone."

Spencer was curled up into a ball now with the boot marks already beginning to rise and colour on his too pale skin.

Flanders stepped away. "I need to let you know Agent Aaron Hotchner that anything you do to me, I will repay via Spencer. Don't you ever forget that. Now sit down and I will get food." He put a hand out for Spencer. "Get up off the floor freak and get clean. Food is ready."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11 Dinner

Chapter 11

Dinner

_CANNIBAL, n. A gastronome of the old school who preserves the simple tastes and adheres to the natural diet of the pre-pork period: - __Ambrose Bierce _

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Reid sat on the other side of the table to Hotch. He kept his eyes down and his hands twisting in his lap.

Hotch concentrated on the wall behind Reid's head and did his best to avoid eye contact. His arms were folded.

Floyd served the food.

A scoop on each of the three plates which he then moved to sit in front of each of his 'friends'.

He himself sat down and pick up his fork.

"Anyone want to say grace?" He looked from Reid to Hotch. There was no reply.

Hotch could smell the over whelming lovely smell of the food Flanders had prepared.

Reid was watching Floyd as he stuck his fork into the food and brought out a lump of meat.

"Please don't stand on ceremony. Eat up."

Spencer watched Floyd chewing on his food and looked over at Hotch who was also watching Flanders.

"What in hell's name is wrong with the pair of you? I spent hours making this shit. Now eating it would be good for my mood."

He watched with satisfaction as Hotchner put some meat into his mouth and chewed. He still kept his eyes on the space behind Reid's head.

Reid picked up his fork and began to eat the food Floyd had prepared them.

For the next few minutes they sat in silence. The food in Reid's bowl was slowly going down – Floyd had almost finished his, but Hotch still had the same bit in his mouth chewing around. Floyd looked from on to the other and then to Hotch again.

"You haven't swallowed it."

Aaron just looked at him. He thought if he was forced to swallow this he would be sick. He watched Floyd stand and walk up behind Spencer. Reid had eaten most of his but the thick liquid was still sitting in the bottom of his bowl.

"Swallow it." Floyd stood stroking Spencer's hair as Hotch spat the food out into the bowl in front of him. He slowly pushed it away.

"I don't want your food."

Floyd raised an eyebrow. "What have I told you about not doing what I tell you?"

Hotch stood up. "I won't be intimidated by you Flanders."

"Fine." Flanders fingers twisted in Spencer's hair as Floyd pushed his face forwards and down.

The food splashed up either side of Reid's face as Floyd forced it into his bowl. Reid's hands came up and one tried to untangle the fingers in his hair whilst the other attempted to move the bowl out of the way.

Aaron could hear the spluttering sounds of Reid trying to breath through the Hungarian stew and started to walk towards Floyd to drag him off. Floyd pulled Spencer's face out of the mess enough for him to take a breath but he was looking at Hotch. "Stay exactly where you are Agent Aaron Hotchner and I will tell you about Sam."

"Get your hands off Reid now."

"Or what?" He pushed Reid back into the food. "Or you will never find Sam? Or you will never know who Sam is? Or you wont know about the Trents? Or the Saviours."

Spencer was kicking out now and trying to dig his nails into the back of Floyd's hand.

"Leave him alone!" and now Hotch was behind Floyd an arm around his neck pulling him back away from Spencer. "I won't be dictated to by you. You will step away from my agent and you will stop with your stupid games."

Flanders let go of Reid and took two steps back to match the pull on his neck. "You don't want to know about Sam?"

"Yes – yes I want to know what you are talking about but not – not ever at the expense of one of my agents." Hotch was keeping slight pressure on Flanders neck as both men now stood unmoving watching Reid slowly get to his feet and walk towards the bathroom. Food was dripping from his face. He didn't look at Floyd or Hotch – he just walked silently from the room.

"You happy now? You've upset Spencer." Floyd pulled the arm away from his neck and turned around to face Hotch.

"It was you drowning him in his dinner which upset him." Hotch heard the bathroom door slam shut.

Floyd stepped in very close and spoke directly into Hotch's ear. "You know you are a filthy bit of dirt don't you?"

Hotch took a step back. "You …."

"What….?" A step forwards again noses almost touching. "Bastard? That seems a fitting word….as for fitting….do you want to know what I did to you?"

"Get away from me." Hotch hissed at Floyd and moved back again.

"Or what? What will you do to me Agent Aaron Hotchner? I hope it will be as fun as what I did to you – and Spence – what Spence did to you too."

Hotch wanted to be sick. He wanted to get away from this man and go home and shower and sleep or drink or anything other than listen to this.

Floyd placed a hand on the side of Hotch's face. His left hand – the one in the brace and ran his thumb over Hotch's cheek. "He blew you. You loved it." Floyd licked his lips. "You called out – small little sounds Agent Aaron Hotchner – as your agent took you in his mouth and licked at you."

Hotch slapped the hand away from his face. "Shut up."

Floyd stood slightly on his toes now to reach the still retreating Hotch and spoke again in his ear. This time he slid his hand around to Hotch's side and rested it gently on the area just above his hip. "Spencer is such a dirty little boy you know….and I know you watch him and I can smell your lust on you. You want him so badly. It makes me want to laugh because you could have had him! Right here and you were too stupid to realise it and now it's too late. He is my little whore and he did you good. I could hear his groans….they make my mouth water….I could feel myself needing you again at the sounds and smells of my Spencer having you." The hand tightened slightly. "So what are you going to do now Agent Aaron Hotchner? Talk to Rossi about it? Talk to that creature Agent Derek Morgan about it? Or what about Strauss? All good options, but I really don't think you want your little secret desires known to everyone do you? All those times you sat in the locker room waiting for him to come out in his towel….dripping….dripping water over his chest." Fingers digging in with one hand and the other hand had made its way to the back of Hotch's head holding it firmly in place." Water running over his perky little nipples and – Oh my – dripping and running down to his sweet little navel."

"You can't put this on Reid. This was your doing not his." He could feel Flanders breath on his lips as he spoke. What the hell did this man think he was doing?

"I can." A small kiss on the mouth. "I will." A lick on Hotch's lips. "And I will continue to put the blame on him. He brought you home at the wrong time. I wasn't prepared."

"What do you mean?" Trying to pull his head back but finding he was staring into Flanders eyes.

"I asked him to invite you back for entertainment."

"You are a liar………" Floyd pulled Hotch's head closer and kissed him as deeply as the resistant Hotch would allow and then pulled back.

"I know I am….but which part is not the truth? The bit about Spencer having your tight little arse? The bit about the way he took you in his sweet mouth? The bit about Sam being my offspring? The bit about the meal of human flesh? The bit about Spencer enjoying his space monkey experiences? The bit about me wanting you again right now? Which parts are the lie Agent Aaron Hotchner?" And another quick kiss on Hotch's lips.

"You animal." A low quiet voice.

"Well it has been said. Thank you. I am on cloud nine. I love it when someone sees me for what I really am, but in truth and all joking apart…" Noses touching and fingers digging in hard. "Will Rossi want to hear all of that? Do you want me to be telling them how I stood there and watched Spencer take you? You want to ruin him?"

"I am too late. You have done that job for me."

Floyd nodded and stepped back. "You can go. Just remember – think of his face Agent Aaron Hotchner – imagine how he will feel when you accuse Spence of rape. Imagine that betrayal. He wouldn't survive it. He is barely with us now. Your guns are in the hall cupboard drawer. Get the hell out of my home and don't come back until I call you back."

-o-o-o-

Spencer sat on the floor again in the bathroom. He had washed his face but there was still stuff stuck to his hair. He had on a Tshirt and a pair of sweatpants and tired to make himself as small as he could in the gap between the toilet and the tub.

He was filth. He knew that. He wanted to just feel wanted and feel useful. He closed his eyes against the brightness of the bathroom and thought about when he was a child hiding – well avoiding more than hiding – from his father. He remembered how he would curl up as tightly as he could and concentrate on his breathing – on trying to become invisible, but it never worked. He always found him. He was dad and he seemed to know. Spencer could remember the feel of his father's hands on him and how he would pull him to stand up from where he had tried to hide. He could remember the pain and fear and the screaming and the pain which followed the cries. He could remember every touch and feel. He could remember that sound. The heavy breathing and the smell. That smell his father had on him sometimes at night. That smell. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to empty his stomach of the food he had eaten but he couldn't. Floyd had cooked it. He had to keep it down…he couldn't insult the only person who wanted him.

He thought of Aaron and of flashes of images in his mind and wondered why it had happened. Why had he allowed it to happen? Why didn't he put a stop to this long ago when he knew Hotch waited for him to come out of the showers? Why did he let himself become the constant victim when it came to this side of this life.

Other things he had control over. The drugs he had managed to mostly stop. He had replaced it though – he was aware of that – he was a genius after all and he knew that this wasn't normal.

He reached out for the belt still laying on the floor and pulled it close. Spencer remembered the belt his father had used on him sometimes. He could still feel it whipping against his skin bringing it up in red welts on his pale skin. Still there for the kids at school to see the next day when they changed for sports and the torment and name calling which accompanied it. Not enough that his father abused him – the kids had to laugh at the minor parts. The visible parts: the parts which really when he thought about it didn't matter.

Spencer ran his fingers over the leather and could feel tears prickling behind his eyes. He didn't want to cry. It happened too long ago and it was just another abuser who abandoned him.

He looked up as the bathroom door opened and tired to pull back even further when he saw it was Floyd.

"Spence." Floyd knelt down in front of him… This was becoming a habit. "You OK."

"I'm sorry." Spencer whispered.

A frown from Floyd. "What are you sorry about?" Flanders took Reid's hands in his and pulled them towards him…He half expected to see blood, but there was nothing. "What did you do?"

Reid was shaking his head. "You tried to drown me in my dinner."

Floyd started to stand and pull Reid to his feet. "That wasn't to punish you babes. It was to show Hotchner."

Reid allowed himself to stand but needed to feel the tiles against his back. "Has he left?"

Spencer found himself being led from the bathroom to the bedroom next door. They did seem to be alone now. "Just lay down and rest. I need to clean up the mess from dinner. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be with you."

He stood and watched Reid lay down and curl up facing the wall. He knew that he shouldn't have done that with the food. That was spiteful, and it made him smile on the inside, but on the outside it made him cross. Hotchner wasn't going to mess this up for him. He had Reid back. He had him compliant and reasonably happy and nothing was going to spoil this for him.

It took only twelve minutes to sort out as much as he could be bothered to sort. He double locked the door and slipped the bolts across. He knew Hotchner had a key and he didn't want him just turning up again. Tomorrow he would get the locks changed.

He didn't think he would report what had happened. He was sure of it. Men didn't like to think that their masculinity had been harmed by being raped…especially someone smaller than him self. He would be at home soon and he would shower and scrub at his skin and he would still feel dirty. He would still be able to feel someone inside him, only now he wouldn't be sure if it was him or Spencer and again Floyd smiled. Way to screw with someone's mind. They would know at work that something was wrong. That lot would spot it a mile off but they wont say anything_. 'Hey Hotchner have you been butt fucked?'_ wouldn't be something he would get asked.

So now he was standing at the bedroom door. He knew Spencer wasn't sleeping, he could almost feel the heat coming from his brain as he lay there thinking of the day's events. He went to the bed and lay down behind Reid and wrapped his arms loosely around him.

"You feeling any better?"

"Who is Sam?"

"Ah…I knew this was going to come soon. It doesn't matter really who he is does it? He can't be found."

"Did you do something to him?" Spencer was asking the questions in a voice which let Floyd know that he wasn't going to like the answers.

"No babes….didn't lay a hand on him…Promise."

"But you know who he is?" Whispered questions.

"I know who he is."

"Are you going to tell me or keep me wondering forever?"

"He's Rosa's brother."

Silence.

"Spence?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking." Reid rolled over so he was facing Floyd. "Rosa's bother? The Rosa you spoke of?"

"The same – but don't let it bother you. I don't let it bother me." Floyd kissed Spencer on the lips gently.

"He is your son? I thought he was adopted by his uncle."

Now Floyd's turn to go quiet.

"Floyd? Who is Trent-Saviour?"

"Enough questions for now. Sleep. We can talk when you can think straight – or not. Which reminds me – tomorrow I want us to go out somewhere….like on a date." Floyd ran fingers through Spencer's hair.

"You are insane." Spencer closed his eyes and let Floyd hold him until he fell asleep.

-o-o-o-

Hotch parked up near his new happy place and walked to his door. He unlocked it and wandered in, kicking the front door closed as he walked in. He turned off the alarm and walked to the bathroom.

Slowly he stripped and then stood and looked at himself in the mirror. He could see marks on his skin. Tooth marks…bite marks on his chest and shoulders. On his abdomen. He could see finger print bruises near his hips and along the tops of his legs.

He looked suddenly old and empty. He turned on the shower water and without checking it he walked under the water. It was too hot but he didn't really mind now. He used the long handled scrubbing brush and lots of soap and scrubbed at every bit of flesh he could reach. He picked at the bite on his shoulder where he had been bleeding and as the soap got in his eyes he was happy – happy that he could at least feel that bit of pain.

He suddenly thought of Spencer. He had flashes of images in his mind and could see that hand next to him on the floor. He could see Spencer's hand. On that part Floyd had been telling the truth. He stood with his back to the wall and slid slowly to the floor with the water still too hot making his skin go red. Reid had raped him…He had seen his hand. He had to report it. There was no way he could ever work or trust him again.

Aaron pulled his knees up tight to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

He was still sitting there in the morning when his phone began to ring. The water warm and his skin red raw where he had been scrubbing the filth off his skin.

-o-o-o-

Spencer slept well that night. Floyd lay awake all night watching over him like a guardian angel.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12 Visitor

Chapter 12

Visitor

_FEAR is an acronym in the English language for "False Evidence Appearing Real": - __Neale Donald Walsch_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Erin Straus sat behind her desk and just looked at him. "I don't understand why."

Hotch looked at the wall and tried to keep calm. "Personal time. I need get something sorted out and I cant do that all the time I am having to face my team members everyday."

"Then you need to explain to me what the problem is. You are half way through a case Hotchner – I don't want you just walking away. You need to pull yourself together and get back and lead those people. They need you in control."

Hotch wanted to reach over the desk and shout in her stupid face. "I am aware of that. Which is why I am requesting personal time. I cannot possibly lead them successfully until this has been sorted."

She sighed. "And you won't tell me what it's all about? This sudden problem?"

Hotch blinked. "As I explained……"

"And do you have any idea how long you are going to need?"

Hotch started to stand up. "I will keep you informed of the situation, but right now I am unable to lead the team."

"And you will be consulting a doctor about this 'problem'?"

"As I said I will keep you informed. Until then…." He took his gun out of his holster and his badge from his pocket. "I won't be needing these for a while." He placed them on Erin's desk. "I would like to say a thank you for understanding, but I'm not sure I explained myself very clearly."

Straus looked at the badge and gun and nodded. "They will be here waiting for you when you are ready. Take care Aaron and get your self sorted."

Hotch nodded quickly and turned to leave. He muttered a quick 'thank you' and was gone.

Straus sat and looked at the badge on the desk and then at the closing door. She would like to have known what had happened but if Hotchner she made it her task to find out.

-o-o-o-

Spencer sat on his chair and stared at the mug of coffee Floyd had placed in his hand. He couldn't go into work. He didn't think he could ever go there again. He felt so ashamed and dirty and disgusted with himself that he just wanted to evaporate. Nothing could or would ever be the same again. Not that it had been brilliant or right in the first place. Nothing had been right since he was a small child…but this was beyond 'not right' - it was out and out contemptible behaviour he had displayed. He could see the surface of his drink ripple as his hands shook and so he rested it on his knees. If he couldn't see it maybe, just maybe it would go away.

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back and let out a deep moan. Floyd had destroyed everything. He wondered briefly about Ardal and then shook all thoughts from his mind again. He could hear Floyd walking into the room and he heard the sigh of the leather couch as he sat. No words were exchanged. Reid couldn't think of anything to say to him right now. He used to…well his mind let him think he used to anyway – feel safe with Floyd around. Feel happy almost – feel wanted, but now he didn't know. He didn't know what had happened yesterday. He had foggy memories but the words Floyd used didn't fit with them.

Floyd had talked to Spencer that morning when he got up to go to work.

"So – Spence – what now?"

Floyd was ignored.

"You are going to ignore me?"

"I am thinking if there is anything I want to say to you."

"And?"

Reid looked at Floyd and shook his head. He wanted to tell him to leave. He wanted to tell him to stop messing with his mind. "I need to talk to Hotch." Suddenly blurted out of his mouth. "I'm going in to work to talk to him there." Spencer leaned forward and put his mug on a coaster on the table.

"I would rather you didn't." Floyd was looking at Spencer wondering if he had the balls to do that…and if he did then said ball needed to be crushed.

"Well you're not in the position to tell me what to do. You are a guest in my home."

Floyd nodded. "I see. Very well. I can change that easily."

Spencer didn't say more. He got up and walked to the bedroom and changed into a pair of cords and a short sleeved white shirt. He stood and looked in the mirror and could see everything. He could see in his face that he was scum. Everyone would know. His stomach twisted deep down and his head swam with rage at everything. He pulled on a brown jacket and slipped on his shoes.

As he left the room Floyd was standing in the hallway just watching. Reid tried not to look at him. He knew if he did one of two things would happen and he didn't want either so he kept his head down and pulled his messenger bag off the wall peg and picked up his house and car keys of the hall cupboard. He walked to the door and stood looking at it.

He said he could change the 'guest' situation easily and Spencer wanted that to mean that he would be gone when he got back. He put his hand out and unbolted the door. Then again he didn't want him gone. He needed him. He wanted things to be different. He wanted things to feel happy and safe again. He wanted Floyd to be that person he had known before. Before his crap had happened.

He flicked back the lock and undid the latch. Floyd hadn't told him not to leave. He hadn't asked him to stay – he hadn't said anything. Spencer could hear Floyd's heavy breathing – almost as though he was waiting for him to do something. To turn around and say 'sorry' to him for some imagined injustice but not today. Today Spencer pulled open the door and walked out of the apartment pulling the door closed behind him.

Reid gave Floyd to the count of ten to come and call him back again. To ask him to come back…to touch him and hold him and show him he was wanted….but it didn't happen. He got in the elevator and went down to the parking level.

Again he gave Floyd time to catch up and say something and again nothing happened. He got in his car and drove to work. He wouldn't be working. He hadn't called in sick and no one had called him to ask why. As he pulled up in the underground parking lot he began to wonder if this was the best idea he had ever had, but he had to know. He needed to know what had happened and Floyd wasn't going to tell him the truth.

He used his pass card in the elevator lock and entered it when the doors opened. He stood where he always did at the back of the car with his hands holding the rail running around the edge. When the doors opened on his level he stood and looked for a while. He wasn't sure what he expected to see – some banner hanging up to say _'Reid screwed the boss'_ or something….he didn't know – but now he was here he knew it was a mistake. He should have just called…should have written a letter maybe. Should have done anything but what he had just done. He blinked away the sweat which was running down his face and slowly stepped out of the car.

He walked on legs which were screaming at him to turn around. He walked slowly and the room was spinning and he was suddenly much too hot and needed to get out again. He turned and looked at the elevator doors. Only a few steps away but it felt like a million miles. And now a voice from behind him.

"Reid!" It was Morgan. He would know…Morgan would see it on him – smell it on him…see the fear and the panic rising. He ignored the voice and took a step forward.

He could see the light on the elevator blinking. He took another step forward. A hand rested on his shoulder. "Hey Reid." Morgan again.

The elevator door opened and Hotch – who was looking down at the floor – stepped out.

Reid let out a moan of horror and shock and he felt the hand on his shoulder change position and grab him under the arm as his knees gave way and the world turned a sickly shade of grey/green.

He could hear voices from some where and he could feel he was being lifted off the floor.

Spencer wanted to just go home. He wanted to get away from this place. It had been the biggest mistake he had ever made and now he felt trapped.

Morgan and Prentiss half dragged and half carried Spencer to the day room. They lay him on the couch and Morgan knelt on the floor next to him placing a hand on his forehead. Spencer could feel the hand and feel the sweat and feel everything sliding away from him. Voices were muffled in his head and he couldn't hear what was being said but he could definitely hear Hotch's voice.

-o-o-o-

He hadn't been expecting to see Reid. He had just wanted to gather a few things from his office and leave. He hadn't planned on talking to anyone and now he was here trapped and Morgan was asking him what he should do. Morgan needed the leader to lead and all he could do was mutter the occasional word back.

"I'll call a doctor in for him." Morgan was pulling out his cell phone.

Hotch took a step towards him. "It won't be necessary." He wanted to say more but words were sticking in his throat.

"Sir – he's sick."

"I know. A doctor isn't necessary though."

Morgan who was still kneeling on the floor next to Reid turned to look at Hotch. Something was wrong. He looked back at Reid and could see his hands shaking and the sweat dripping off his face. He looked too hot. He must've been sweltering in that jacket.

"Help me get his jacket off." Morgan spoke this time to Prentiss who was also looking from one man to the other and back again, but Hotch took a step forwards again.

"Just leave him and get back to work. Rossi will be in soon and is taking over this case."

Morgan frowned and stood up. "What happened?"

Prentiss eyes went big and she looked again at Spencer and then Hotch.

"Nothing has happened. I just want you to get back to work."

"The hell nothing has happened! What's going on here?" Gesturing to Spencer. "This isn't nothing."

Hotch started to turn to leave the room. "Just get back to work."

Aaron couldn't look at Spencer. He wanted to. He wanted to go over there and shake him and demand an explanation, but he couldn't. That would be admitting something was wrong…that something had happened…That one of his agents had raped him. He closed his eyes an was rushed right back to laying on his front on Reid's floor. He could feel the weight on his back. He could feel the way he was pinned down. He could feel the pressure of Spencer's thighs tight against him. He could feel the hot excited breath on the back of his neck and the hands on his shoulders, and then the conformation. He could see Spencer's hand. Those long fingers. The carefully manicured nails. He could feel Spencer on his back.

Something was wrong with the memory. Something wasn't fitting with what Flanders had said but he wasn't going to stand here and ask him. He couldn't deny to himself that it had happened if he confronted him. All he could do now was run away. Forget the few things in the office – just get out – get in the car and drive. Go to Florida. Go to Canada. Go to Alaska. Go anywhere but be here.

He turned his back on the man he had felt such love for, for so long.

He turned his back on the job he loved and had lost his wife and child over.

He turned his back on everything and walked away.

He would be back.

When his mind was fixed. When he could work out what had happened that day…when he could work out….what was the truth and what had Floyd lied about.

Morgan watched Hotch walk away and then turned back to Spencer. He knelt down again and tried talking to him. "Reid – what the hell is going on?"

But nothing as a reply except for more sweat and slight gagging sounds.

"Emily…help me out here. I need to get this jacket off him."

She walked forwards and helped support Reid in a floppy sitting up position as Morgan removed the brown jacket.

Prentiss made a small noise in the back of her throat and Morgan said. "Sonofabitch." As they lay Spencer back down again. His arms were covered in bruises.

Small pinch marks…finger marks…It looked like someone had been holding his arms tightly and digging their fingers into his white flesh. There were bigger marks which looked more like punches or kicks. Scratches and scabs covered the skin they could see below the short sleeves of his shirt.

"My god, what happened to him? What's been going on?"

Morgan shook his head and looked out the way Hotch had gone. Hotch who didn't want to help. Hotch who didn't want him to remove the jacket. Hotch who knew something and was keeping it to himself.

Morgan rolled Spencer onto his back and started to undo his shirt buttons.

"Derek – what on earth?"

"I want to see what else has been done to him."

The two of them watched as slowly Derek's dark fingers unbuttoned the shirt to reveal the skin underneath. More bruises. Booted imprints along his ribs. Bite marks on his chest and abdomen…his shoulders and parts of his neck you could see where the skin was scabbing over. Reid allowed them to look. He couldn't do much to resist. As long as they didn't touch him below the waist he didn't care anymore. It was over. They knew…they could see. They would laugh and tell him how stupid he is and they will abandon him the way everyone else did when things became complicated.

He felt Morgan's hand on his back. Feeling the lumps and bruises…recent ones and old ones.

"Reid." Derek's voice was gentle. Concerned. Someone had been beating up on Spencer for a while now. He needed to know who. "Spencer – where did all these bruises come from?"

Spencer sighed and pulled his shirt back around his skinny form. "Has Hotch gone?"

"Hotch did this?!" Morgan was on his feet…his face feeling hot with rage.

"No – no he didn't. Has he gone?"

Prentiss sat on the arm of the couch and stroked Spencer's hair. "He's gone. You can talk to us though Spencer. It's ok you know."

"I don't want to talk to you. Where's my jacket? I need to go home. I feel sick."

There wasn't much they could do. Derek would put in a report, or at least talk to Rossi about it. He wasn't going to leave it like this. He knew something had happened between the two men he just didn't know what it was. He couldn't imagine that Hotch had been hurting Spencer. That just wouldn't happen. Aaron was too protective of him to do something like that. Therefore someone else had been doing it and Hotch knew something about it. Everything was just wrong.

Reid drove home in a bit of a mad rush. He needed to be in his room. He needed to be in the fog of his mind and take back some control which had been slipping away. He pulled up in a rush and park the car at a strange angle and got the elevator to his apartment floor. He walked quickly down the corridor and pulled the key out of his pocket.

Spencer stood and looked at the door and frowned. He looked at the key in his hand and then back at the door. It was his door, but the lock was totally different. He tried to put it in the lock anyway. Maybe the panic. He stood there for a little while just looking at the door.

Floyd had said he was going to sort out the 'guest' issue. He had done this. Floyd had changed the damned locks. He put his hand into a fist and knocked on his own front door. He could hear movement behind the door and then it opened.

Floyd smiled at him.

"Welcome home babes. How was work?"

Reid pushed him out of the way and walked in. "I thought you would be gone. I need to be alone Floyd. I don't want you here anymore. I need a key."

"Well I'm not. I'm staying and I know you don't mean that. You can't have a key."

"This is my apartment Floyd – you really want me to call the police in and have you removed?"

"You really want me to call Morgan and tell him that you raped Hotchner? I'm sure he is wondering what's going on." Floyd stood too close to Spencer and talked right in his face. "You dirty whore. You let Agent Derek Morgan touch you. You sodding bit of filth!"

Spencer backed off. "I passed out. He was helping."

"You think I'm stupid? I can smell him on you! I can smell him on your clothing." Floyd grabbed Spencer's arm and started to pull off his jacket. "I can smell him on you Spencer. On your skin."

"Floyd you're not stupid. You are paranoid! Leave me alone! Get off me!" Backing off as Floyd threw the jacket to the floor and started to rip off Spencer's shirt.

He tried to run. He wanted to get to the bathroom. Get wet. Anything to stop this. Curl up in a ball and disappear – but the shirt was being ripped off and hard hands were pulling him close. A tongue running over his skin. Teeth digging in and a mouth kissing.

"I can smell him all over you Spencer. You let him touch you." Floyd stood back and just looked at Reid who stood swaying slightly and looking at the floor. "You are a whore." Floyd turned and walked to the lounge and Reid turned and walked to the bedroom.

-o-o-o-

Hotch got in his car and drove in a random direction. He had no idea where he was going yet or what he was going to do when he got there. He did know that he wasn't going to let Reid ruin his life. He wasn't going to let this destroy him….

And he knew that he would punish Spencer for what he did to him.

He just needed to work out what to do.

And the best way to do it.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13 The Good Times

Chapter 13

The Good Times

_Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself: - __Friedrich Nietzsche _

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

HOTCHNER

It's not because I hate him…I don't. It's so much more than that. I don't know all of what happened that night and I am sure Spencer doesn't know either, but what I do know – what I do remember was that he was there – that I was raped and that Spencer was there.

I know he was laying across me. I could feel him. I could feel his thighs tight against mine as he straddled me. I could feel his bare skin against mine and I could feel his hands on me.

I saw him.

I couldn't have been mistaken. I saw his hand and then something hit the back of my head. I know whoever it was who hit me was not the person on me. Therefore the conclusion is that Flanders kicked. Reid was on me. Just on me. Laying on me and moving, but did he rape me? He definitely can be accused of sexual assault. The man I thought I wanted so much. The man I would reluctantly say I lusted after – maybe this was my punishment for all the times I behaved like a voyeur. Maybe.

I have lost a part of me which was so important. That was taken away from me. I will never be able to trust Reid again. He has proven how deceitful he can be by allowing Flanders back into his life – back into his apartment and then as good as luring me back there. At least not informing me that Flanders was going to be there. I don't know why he did that. I can only put it down to either his total lack of respect for me or he is sick.

If it is lack of respect. If that is what it is then I will never be comfortable in his presence again. He has more than once lied to the team. He has more than once hidden truths from us and put himself and other peoples lives in danger. How can I work with someone I can not be certain doesn't have his own interests at heart. How can I trust him?

I can't.

There are a couple of options open to me. I can leave the BAU or the FBI even and I can try to put the shame behind me. Except it will never be gone and I lost my wife my family over my job and will not permit Spencer to force me to do something I wouldn't do for my own son.

I can report this.

I can accuse him and Flanders of sexual assault and use the ensuing havoc to ruin my life anyway.

Whatever happens I feel it's over. Reid took something from me which was the thing keeping me together. My reason for keeping going.

I can move on. I can take what was given to me and use it to make me a better person. A more empathic person. Someone who doesn't hide his feelings behind a wall of cold.

I can get Spencer some help.

This last option seems to be the one which feels most fitting. Reid is being abused. The abused often become abusers. Sure – sure not always I do know that, but in a lot of cases. I've gone through this before though. Some abused become abusers….some grow up to catch abusers. Or maybe in this case to attempt to keep them safe. To keep them away from the hurt.

I think it will work.

I know it will work. I have no doubts. Spencer is ill. His mind is slipping. He has never recovered fully from the Hankel incident. This is therefore my intention. I will make sure he gets the help he needs and this help will involve residential care somewhere away from Flanders. Whatever sort of brainwashing that man has used on him I will ensure is undone.

I need to think.

I need to shower and scrub and sit in my hotel room and scream and throw things at the wall. I need to sit in the shower and feel the water scalding on my skin.

I need to look at the bite marks and wonder if they came from Reid. I need to pick at the one on my shoulder. It's deep. It is bruised around the edges as though I had not just been bitten but sucked and chewed on. I need to get that image away. I need to clear my skin of all evidence that it happened.

But while I am healing my wounds I will make sure that Spencer is punished for his actions…or inactions. For his failure to do his job and for the assault which has ripped from me what I was.

I don't know what I am anymore. I am on an expedition of my soul now. I need to rediscover who I am.

-o-o-o-

REID

They came uninvited. A knock on the door as I was laying on the hall floor getting a kicking again for some imagined indiscretion. It hurt. It hurt a lot but not as much as what happened when Floyd answered the door.

A team. A full team of doctors who needed right then to see me. They had the paper work. I wanted to argue with them. I wanted to plead my case but they weren't listening. Floyd just stood back and let them take me. He didn't look at me. He didn't say anything – but I know he was planning something. Thinking up a way to stop it. I'm still waiting.

They took me to the ambulance which was waiting down out in the street. People watched as they escorted me to the back of the vehicle. It was fairly obvious to everyone what was going on. I was being taken away and no one was lifting a finger to help me.

I tried talking to them but they just said 'We have the paper work. You will have to argue it over with admin.'

My next of kin was getting me committed to a special hospital. My next of kin. Hotch.

I didn't think he would do this to me. He knows this is my worst fear ever but no amount of shouting and struggling could have prevented it. They stuck needles in my ass in the end to shut me up. I can remember them holding me down in the street and I can remember the smell of the sidewalk and the smell of traffic. I felt the sting of the needle piercing my skin and not much else.

Now.

Now I am here.

No one has come to talk to me or answer all of my questions. I don't know why I am here and I don't know why they are treating me like this. I that Hotch would never do this to me.

I know.

Hotch was a protector.

Hotch was someone I could go to when the world felt like it was sliding away. Hotch was not the sort to take out petty revenge on someone. This wouldn't have been him.

They have restrained me.

And I screamed and shouted and tried to pull off the things they put around my wrists and ankles but all I got back from them was_. 'Stop making a fuss. We are trying to help you.'_

This doesn't feel much like help to me. I need to know why I am here. I need to know where 'here' is and I need Floyd or Hotch to come and sort this out. The drugs are confusing me. My arms hurt from where I am pulling on these – these things around me. Holding me down! Stopping me from….thinking…

I need to think and they wont let me…

Where is Hotch?

I have screamed until my voice is hoarse and all I get is accusing looks and more medication.

I awoke after a nightmare.

I had been laying in the dark. In a damp dark place and I had been restrained in some manner and there was a child eating what looked to be a rat and around the dark room on shelves where pumpkins carved into faces and human heads rotting and maggot covered…and I awoke shouting and trying to get away from it.

Where is Hotch? Why am I here?

They have talked to me. They have asked me lots of questions but none of them seemed to make sense and the voices were from so far away that I couldn't hear them properly.

I wonder where Floyd is….When will they take these things off me?

Has anyone missed me?

Is anyone looking for me?

My ankles are bleeding. Did I tell you that? I cant remember if I told you that yet…my ankles and my wrists. I'm wearing hospital pyjama bottoms but no top.

I'm too hot!

Oh god I am so hot I am going to explode. My blood is boiling…I can feel it in my veins bubbling and burning…

I've been crying. My tears were burning my face but no one came to see what was wrong.

They drugged me again. 'Over emotional state.' Someone muttered. 'Needs to be kept sedated.' And words which sounded like I was going to be moved to somewhere else….but I don't know. I can't understand what they are saying. All their words are getting muddled into one grey lump in my mind.

The more I think the more confused I am getting.

Did you hear that?

Who's there?

Someone is touching me.

Get off me!

Oh god someone please….

Someone help me………………………

-o-o-o-

FRANKS

You bastard.

I will track your arse down and make you sorry the day you crossed me.

Why the fuck cant you leave us along Hotchner? Why do you have to come and fuck it all up again.

We were happy.

Spence hasn't had nightmares for a while. Did you know that? No obviously you don't. You are his boss. You are not interested in him as a perfect being. A treasure so valuable that you would give your life up for it. Something so desirable that you will give up eternal peace just to be able to be with him.

NO!

You were not aware were you?

You have removed him from me. I partly understand that you don't want me near him. After feeling him on and in you like that you would need to keep that for yourself wouldn't you?

I will find you. I will show you why you don't mess with me and then I will reclaim that which you have taken from me.

Yes I know you are pissed with me…I know….but for fucks sake you are a grown man with desires for Spencer…being butt fucked by him can't have been all bad.

Spencer. Hang on in there. I need to sort this mess out.

I have been protecting Spencer for a long time. I have been there for him all the way. Yes I backed off here and there to give him space to develop. No point in stunting the mental growth of something so irreplaceable as Spencer. But he is mine.

It is written.

I have his name and my name together.

He has part of me inside him.

NO no no not that part…Well that part too, but I wasn't meaning that….

I need to do something…wait here for me.

-o-o-o-

They took him to a facility and from what I have heard he has deteriorated.

I don't know if it was the right thing. I feel it was. If he was healthy and had no problems then he would not have to be restrained and drugged just so they can take blood and check him out properly.

I called them.

They haven't managed to get a coherent word out of him yet. They say he spends his waking moments screaming and thrashing around. It hurts so much. I hate to think of him in that much mental anguish but it had to be done….and in a way his pain is just a small insignificant reflection on my own.

What have I done?

Oh god what have I done to Spencer?

He is above all else the person I love. The person I would happily share anything for – but he ruined me….why am I feeling this dreadful guilt? Why do I feel the need to go and visit him?

I can't go.

I have been told I can't go.

It would be too upsetting.

Mental illness is a dreadful thing but he needs to be treated and protected. I have made sure he can't have visitors. I have made sure that Flanders can't get to him.

I wonder –

Does he know it was me?

Is his mind functioning well enough for him to know I am next of kin?

I don't think it is. I don't know what he knows. I can't talk to his doctor about it. It hurts too much.

The pain of what I have done and am continuing to do by allowing it to carry on…what is that? What is that pain?

Do I love him?

Do I need him more than I did Haley? Well yes. I need him. I need him back to how he was. I need to be able to see him and touch him as I walk by him. I need to smell that shampoo in his hair and see that mole above his eyebrow.

I need to see the mole on his upper chest and yes. I need to see his bare skin.

BUT

Under my rules.

Within the set boundaries of my own mind…not the ones Flanders wishes to impose.

-o-o-o-

Where am I?

I can hear a buzzing sound in my head…

…………and I can I can I can seeeee…things in the

I can see things.

In the ……………I can see them in the dark….dark….in the dark?

My eyes are too tired – they are too tired to open….please I don't like it here….I don't want to be here!

………..where am I?

I can hear a buzzing sound….flies…flies everywhere….oh god oh god flies over me and in me….under my skin….

Things……everywhere things……but I can't - I can't I need to tomovebutIcanmoveanymoreandmyarmsmy arms….my arms……my feet and my arms….

Something in my hair….

Get it out of my hair!

Get it out of my hair!!

Oh no oh god no…please don't please….

-o-o-o-

I took time off away from my initial pissed off feelings for Agent Aaron Hotchner and went to visit the kids.

Normal families have picnics at the sea side or such….we though are far from normal.

Rosa.

My beautiful foul mouthed daughter. She will be a good little whore when she gets older. She has the eyes for it.

Sam

My beautiful and spiteful bed wetting fire starting son. He is finding things strange here. Here when he can mess with time and mess with minds. Sam is who I need to consult with. He is ancient far beyond appearance you know. One of the good eggs. Well I exaggerate.

Sam can assist here though.

Here were time takes on a whole new meaning.

Here where he can go back and reset from the beginning.

The very beginning.

Back to before I had taken Spencer as my lover. Back when I had my princess I could fuck if I wanted. Back when she wanted Spencer and I encouraged it. Sordid as it was…not that she was real. Having her arse was not really too different to having a blow up doll – or a sheep.

So yes. I am here with Sam and Rosa.

I wanted them play games and we played chess and Sam cheated and so did I and it was a draw.

We played cards and all three of us cheated.

I needed to know from the lad. From my offspring – I needed to know if it could be done.

-o-o-o-

SAM

Well dad came to see me and he messed around and beat around the bush and asked me a favour. My favours cost though. I will do what he asked but it will come with a price…and he must realise that not everything will be as it was. Things change…even during a time alteration.

The others won't be happy and so part of the deal is that I stay with him for a while. I want to learn how to hunt and track and I want to see what is so special about this one thing…this treasure which he would be willing to give up all he has so far.

As we are really….not father and son…but the same person….then I think I might find this Spencer and this Hotchner as desirable as he does. We shall see. As I said….I will do this for him…

But I will twist it to suit me.

-o-o-o-

It's so dark

Dark

It's dark…

…..dark

* * *

**A/N: Due to lack of interest fic will finish here. It will most likely be continued if I feel there is enough interest. Pb**

**please note: my pills ran out 4 days ago and I'm having a problem getting the script repeated by my doctor...strange bitchy mood is gradually building up...Sorry if my writing has been effected by this.**

**Talking of script :cl /sigh**


	14. Chapter 14 Broken

Chapter 14

Broken

_Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased. Nor is it etched on stone, for stone can be __broken__. But it is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever__._

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine

* * *

I don't know how I got here.

I've been driving around stopping off at motels and hotels and a few nights sleeping in the car. My thoughts everywhere and now I am sitting here looking at the front of the building and I don't know how or why.

I picked this place carefully.

My anger at what had happened was not going to permit me to pay the top money for Spencer.

This man ruined me. He took from me everything and I promised myself I would never forgive him – and I won't.

I can still feel the damage he did to me. I can feel where my insides were ripped as he tore his way in. How can I forgive him that? I can't.

I wake up crying.

I wake up screaming.

I wake up shaking.

I wake up wishing I was dead.

And my next thoughts are always Spencer and my image of his hand next to my face…and again I am back in that room and I can feel his skin against mine and I can smell his sweet sweat and my heart dies again.

The cowards way out would be a bullet. I'm not a coward. I have to confront this. Head on.

So after two weeks of soul destroying isolation I am here and I don't know what I want to say to him. I don't know how he is going to react to me.

I do need to do this. I can feel sweat running down the side of my face, but yes…I need to do this to clear my head. Then I can move on.

Flanders.

I need to confront him too, but that will have to wait. I don't know how much of what has happened was Flanders doing. I only know what I felt and what I saw.

I know I was bleeding.

I know I was raped.

I know it was Spencer.

I just don't know why.

Look how white my knuckles are on the steering wheel. My hands have no intention of permitting me to leave the car. They are telling me to drive away but I know I can't ….I have to go and see him. I have to ask him why he did it.

They can't keep him there indefinitely. If there is nothing wrong with him. If he did what he did with conscience and remembers and feels remorse – what do I do then? How do I handle this?

Standing next to the car now. The sun is too hot. In a way it feels good. I can feel it burning my skin. Takes away some of the pain I feel inside. For a few seconds it allows me to think of something else.

The coolness of the interior of the place is almost shocking. It's a fairly new building. Secure. It needed to be secure. Not so he couldn't escape. He's not a prisoner – not really – he is ill. I needed the security of this facility so that Flanders couldn't get in. There are other places. Places where he would maybe have felt more comfortable. Less like a hospital – more like Bennington – but the security was lower and when I was looking for somewhere that was the most important thing.

And so now I am sitting here waiting. They said that they would get him ready for me to see. They said they would let me know and that they would come and get me and now I don't know if I should just stand up and walk away. Maybe this was all I needed to do. Maybe I don't need to see him? I am shaking. My hands are shaking. There is a machine in corner dispensing cool water and my mouth is screaming for moisture but I might be sick if I try to drink something now…I might not be able to hold the paper cup. I might crush it. I might be shaking too much to hold it. I will sit and wait.

I don't know how long I have been here. I feel I should be pacing the room and trying to think of what I am going to say, but how do I know what to say when I've not confronted him yet? How do I know?

Now I am walking down the corridor. They apologised for keeping me so long. There had been a problem. They were sorry. They offered me a drink and I turned it down. They asked if I needed someone with me when I talked to Spencer and I wasn't sure what they meant by that and so I said I was fine. Everything was fine.

Everything was perfect.

-o-o-o-

Spencer had been told that there was someone here to see him. His stomach clenched with excitement. At last Floyd was here for him.

He asked who the visitor was and got no reply.

"Who is it?" he asked again.

"I don't know his name."

"I need to know who it is." Reid was suddenly looking agitated. He was feeling it too…he didn't want to talk to doctors and he didn't want to talk to anyone from the team – people whose names were somewhere filed away in that grey area in the back of his mind.

"Just calm down Spencer. It's a friend. Nothing to get alarmed about." The nurse was putting on her 'don't piss with me Dr Reid' face and it made Spencer want to slap her.

"I am calm. I just wanted to know who it is." He walked behind her as she started to walk down the corridor towards the visitors area. They walked past the room Spencer had seen all the other people go in when they had visitors and down towards a small room with a big door and two way windows. Spencer stopped and looked back the way they had come. This looked like an interrogation room not a comfortable visitors room.

"I'm not – not going in there." He stopped and took steps back. "Sorry. Tell whoever it is…sorry."

The nurse turned to Reid. She had a 'You fucked with me for the last time' expression on her face as she pressed the thing she had around her neck. An alarm button. "You need to relax." She tried to look friendly now but to Spencer she looked like a weight lifting moustached cross dresser from hell and he wasn't going to go in any damned room with her. Not now…not ever. Not in that room. He turned and started to walk back the way he came.

"I have my rights. I – I'm not going in that room!"

This was why Hotch was kept waiting.

Which Aaron thought about having a drink and was looking at his shaking hands and wondering what he was going the say to Reid, Spencer was being pulled to the floor by the orderlies as he shouted and spat and kicked out knowing that that stinging was going to come….knowing that they were going to make him do what they told him.

As the drugs too hold and he finally lay still staring at the ceiling he felt that his sweatpants being removed and he lay unable to move or defend himself as they pulled on fresh clothing and dragged him up off the floor.

They took him to the room he didn't want to go in and opened the door. It was about twelve foot square and had a table in the middle with a chair either side of it. He didn't want to be in there. Something was going to happen. He knew it. He could feel it and he could do nothing to stop it. They let him walk in a groggy line to a chair and watched as he sat. Someone in a suit entered and quiet words were muttered.

'_rape'_

'_sexually adherent.'_

He didn't like the sound of it. He didn't want to be in a room with someone like that. What the hell were they doing to him?

He watched as though a million miles away as his hands were pulled forward and cuffed together and then to the big ring attached to the table. He rattled it for a few seconds. Just to make sure. He would have looked stupid if the ring wasn't attached to the table after all…but it was.

Spencer sat looking at his lap and wiggled his bare toes and wondered what next – for a few minutes….until the final slaughter from the drugs, and his mind slipped into a nothingness.

-o-o-o-

Aaron was brought down the corridor and let to see Reid before he went in.

"He's not had a good day. He is quite heavily sedated."

Hotch looked at the man sitting slouched at the table. It didn't look like Reid. It didn't look like anyone he knew. He could see the side of his face and as Hotch's eyes travelled down over Spencer he saw the restraints.

"You said he is sedated – so why is he also restrained?"

"Sir – he isn't nearly as harmless as he may appear."

"But he is sedated. Removed the restraints. I can't talk to him if he is being held there like a prisoner. He is patient."

"He is being held here for his own safety and the safety of the general public sir. He is still undergoing treatment."

"Take the restraints off." Hotch wasn't going to talk to Reid about what had happened like this. Not with him feeling trapped. Then again the whole reason he was here was because of what he had done.

Aaron walked in with an orderly behind him. Hotch just stood by the door as the cuffs were removed and the man stood back. "You can leave us now." Hotch said quietly.

Spencer obviously heard a familiar voice and his head shot up and he looked over at Hotch. He didn't make eye contact and as soon as Reid realised who it was he turned his head back to study his lap.

The door closed silently as Aaron took the seat on the other side of the table to Spencer.

Now he was here he didn't know what to say. He could see the top of Spencer's head and he with one hand wanted to reach out and touch…just to feel that soft hair under his fingers. But he couldn't. The thought of touching Reid made bile rise into his throat and he could feel that the room was suddenly much too hot. He stood and removed the jacket he was wearing…not a suit jacket just a light weight thing to keep the sun off his arms…he had on Tshirt which had a strip of sweat down the back making it stick to his back.

"I need some answers." Hotch suddenly burst out. He had to say something or neither of them would and this was his last chance to find out what happened.

Spencer didn't say anything though.

"I was hoping they would help you."

Now he looked up and peered at Hotch from under his sweaty hair. "You put me here." It wasn't a question.

"To help you."

Spencer shook his head. "I don't need this sort of help. You know how I feel about this – why? Why this." Reid stood up. "What did I do to deserve this treatment? What did I do!" And now he was shouting.

Hotch stood also but stayed with the table between them. "It was just to run some tests and try to sort you out."

"I can't be cured! I am a fag…there is no cure for that." He started to walk around the table.

Hotch stood his ground. "You know full well that is not what I was referring to." Hotch didn't like the expression on Reid's face but he wasn't going to back off from him. That wasn't the reason he was here. "I need to know what happened that day in your apartment."

"What?" Spencer stopped. "What happened?"

Even at the distance Reid was standing…still a few feet between them he could smell his sweat. He could smell him. And not the nice freshly showered Spencer either….this was a dirty sweaty smell and it made Hotch want to be sick. This was a mistake. He needed to get out of the room. He could feel it closing in on him and the smell……….

He could smell it and with the smell the flashbacks of what happened and he could feel the weight of his junior agent on his back and could see his hand and he could feel that damp sticky skin against his own.

"You raped me!" The words were out of Hotch's mouth before he could stop them. "That is what happened." And as he turned his back on Reid he could feel it again. Only this time Reid was attacking. One arm hooked around Hotch's neck and a hard bare footed kick to the back of his knee.

Hotch let out a surprised 'gak' sound as he tried to get the man who was apparently 'sedated' off him.

"Reid – get – off." But he could smell him and feel him and he just wanted to scream. His heart was screaming…his soul was dying and Spencer was in a full on rage attack biting on the back of Hotch's neck.

Spencer felt his teeth go through the skin and he could taste the gush of blood in his mouth. This man accused him of rape and had him locked up. Reid had thought of Hotch as the only person he could rely on ever. The person who gave him comfort. The person who was always there – and now this. Now all he wanted to do was to show him - show him that this was wrong.

"I didn't touch you!" He hissed in Hotch's ear as security rushed into the room. Spencer pulled back harder stopping Hotch from taking a breath. "I didn't do it. You put me here because of some imagined thing in your………………….."

Hotch felt the weight suddenly go as Reid released him and slid to the floor behind him. He spun around and watched as they lay him on the back and stuck more needles in his upper thigh and started to remove him from the room.

"Wait. Wait."

Hotch wanted to hurt him. He had wanted to hurt him. He had wanted to know what had happened, but this wasn't the way. It couldn't be done like this.

"Leave him." Hotch crouched on the floor next to Spencer. "I'm sorry Reid. I am doing this to help you whatever you might think of me – I am sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted this." Gesticulating around the room. "I just have to know what happened."

"I can't give you the answer you are seeking." Spencer's voice was slurred and distant. "I only know what I was told. I only know that you wanted it. You watched me. You listened to me when I showered. You watched me from your office. You wanted me…and I gave you what you wanted. I butt fucked you and you enjoyed it."

Hotch stood. Reid was correct these weren't the words he had been hoping to hear. He reached out and pushed some hair off Spencer's face. Reid was breathing too fast and too shallow. He wanted to hold him and help him and be there for him, but he couldn't. He had to care for himself before he could care for Reid.

Aaron stood up and stepped back from the man laying on the floor. "Look after him." He muttered as he walked out of the door.

-o-o-o-

Now what am I going to do?

I had hoped I would feel better for seeing him, but now I feel the pain I had before and Spencer's too. I didn't realise he was so ill. They have him on so many different drugs he can't think.

And yes – I know I shouldn't be feeling like this. I need to go and heal and feel whole again. I need to mend myself before I can help Spencer….and I want to. I need to – I have to keep him safe and away from Flanders and I don't know how else to do it!

They have had no enquiries. No one asking to see him. It seems to have worked, but from what I am told the whole thing was odd. Flanders didn't try to stop them taking him. He stood back and allowed it.

They told me how he was covered in bruises. He had been beaten regularly. His back – his arms and legs – the bottoms of his feet even had old wounds on them. Why does Flanders do this, and more to the point why does Spencer let it happen? What is the hold he has?

Stupid question.

That is one I do know the answer to.

Right now – here – sitting in this diner with cold coffee and a stale doughnut I know why Gideon left the way he did. No regrets…and only one goodbye. Was something going on between the two of them. They had a friendship different from everyone elses….

Who else?

Does Morgan see Spencer as something to use and abandon?

I won't do it.

I won't allow Flanders to break me and then get me to abandon Spencer.

I need to go back for him.

But first….

First I have to heal a bit. I need to get my head in the right place and pull myself together…I need to be there for Reid. I won't do it. I won't be like everyone else.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15 Getting Out

Chapter 15

Getting Out

_But some emotions don't make a lot of noise. It's hard to hear pride. Caring is real faint - like a heartbeat. And pure __love - why, some days it's so quiet, you don't even know it's there_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine

My hand is playing up. No jokes…the left hand…the one Spencer tried to remove with a blade. Sometimes it is so painful I feel like chewing it off and being done with it.

Sam laughed at me. Said I could get scissors to replace my hands….would be easier to rip Hotchner's heart out, but I don't necessarily need it to be easy.

I have over done things.

They asked me what I had done to put this much strain on my wrist. I was hardly going to tell them I was choking my bitch to give him more fun when he fucked my victim. Well I could have said that, but would they have believed me?

I still need to get Hotchner. I still need to teach him not to mess with me and………..

Crap…..

Hand cramps. My fingers lock and it feels like when it first happened…that sudden pain.

OK

'Freak heal thyself.' I hear you all shouting….but I can't. One of the rules…decapitation is a bitch to heal and though Spence only sliced the surgeons made sure that they messed up totally.

So yeah…I'm here waiting to see someone about it.

I need to help Spence. I have all my pieces in place. I know how I will get him out of there, but first I have to sort this damned hand out. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with this fucking thing wrapped around it holding it in place.

I've got to go…They've called my name.

-o-o-o-

They had been watching for a while. They had all the information they needed. This was going to be good. The plans were tight and nothing could go wrong. They sat in the black van with tinted windows today…yesterday it was a white car. The day before it was a guy on a bike. There was always someone there though.

Now they had someone on the inside too. Someone feeding back information. They knew everything and this was going to be simple. Well they thought so until yesterday. Something was getting in the way.

They reported back and were told that it was fine. Either or both would be fine. The more the merrier!

-o-o-o-

I have contacted the hospital. I really don't think that the medications Reid is on are necessary – but I'm not a doctor. How do I know? They say he needs it. They say he is dangerous – that he attacks the staff – that he is dangerous to himself. They say he likes pain and that they fear he will do something stupid. He has cut marks on his arms. I didn't know. I wasn't aware of this. They say some of them are old…and some are fresh. They told me that he had been careful where he cuts. They wouldn't be visible if you weren't looking for them. On his legs. On his stomach.

They told me that he bites himself and that he bites until he bleeds.

My neck hurts. He didn't take anything out of me he just bit down hard and – well I suppose he sucked. This isn't the Spencer I know. This isn't the Spencer even who we rescued – belatedly from Hankel. This was a new Spencer and one I was unsure of.

The one I missed. That Spencer – don't know if I will see him again…I don't know if he is lost somewhere under the pain and hurt and abuse and now the drugs.

So yes, I asked them if all the medication was necessary and they said it was. That at least this way he could stand up on his own. At least this way he was able to go to the bathroom and eat and wash. The other way – the unmedicated Spencer had to be restrained to his bed. The other Spencer screamed and howled and fought anything or anyone who came near to him.

And so I will have to trust them and hope that through the haze of drugs he will start to recover. Maybe he will be able to see through the darkness and pull himself out of it again. I will visit again soon. They said that the more I visit the easier it will be for Spencer. Perhaps next time in a different room. Somewhere more comfortable – but somewhere they could restrain him. Next time, I am told he would be kept in restraints. I don't like this. I don't like to see him in so much distress….

Remember what he did to me.

I am standing at the bar with a whiskey in my hand. No water. No rocks. An attempt to drown my own pain. Emotional and physical. How many times have I forgotten what happened only to be reminded when I sit down too quickly? The pain shoots up through my body. I don't think it will ever be gone.

God only knows what damage was done to me internally that day.

I still bleed.

I'm not going to get it treated. That would mean admitting to someone else what had happened…and I need to keep that between me and Spencer and I suppose Floyd.

I thought Flanders would have tried to get Spencer out of there by now but there are no reports of anyone other than myself making enquires or visiting. Again everyone has abandoned him.

-o-o-o-

Spencer was restrained again. They were attempting to cut back his medication but the rages he was flying into was making life very difficult for everyone. They considered contacting the next of kin and telling him that Spencer was not a suitable patient and should be moved to somewhere better equipped to deal with these things, but for now they left him laying on his stomach in his room. His hands cuffed to the bars of his bed. He had his eyes open and was looking at a patch on the wall. Everything was confused. He could remember seeing Hotch, but he couldn't remember anything which had happened. He could remember feeling anger – but he felt that all the time now. The lights had been dimmed so he knew it was night shift. They hadn't fed him today. They were forcing him to eat and restricting his access to anywhere he could puke up into but today there had been no food and he was glad. There was nothing he thought he would be able to keep down anyway.

He didn't hear the door opening but he felt the cool air across his damp skin and then he could hear breathing. He wanted to turn and see who it was but the night time meds had kicked in and he was finding any sort of movement almost impossible.

Hands….touching him.

The weight of someone on the bed and a hand moving up under his Tshirt touching and stroking.

Another hand moving to the waistband of his sweatpants and roughly pulling them down.

Reid wanted to scream.

He wanted to resist but he couldn't move.

Now whoever it was had climbed onto him and with one hand was holding his head still and the other roughly pulled his hips up towards the onslaught of being buggered with no preparation.

The man pushed hard and with no thought of anything but his own pleasures. When Reid made a small moaning sound the attacker pulled his head around and forced his face into the pillow.

Spencer tried to struggle. He could for a while smell the dirt and sweat from the man but now his face was pushed hard down and he was being deprived of oxygen. He couldn't resist it. All he could do was lay there drugged and restrained being slowly suffocated as some big – and yes Spencer could tell this person was big – ripped into him.

The dry pushing became quicker as the blood lubricated and made for a more pleasurable experience for the UnSub on and in Spencer.

It hurt.

It felt like his lungs were going to explode if he didn't get any air soon. He tried to move his head. He tried to struggle and write and wriggle but all he could do was keep his eyes shut and permit someone to rape and kill him in his bed.

-o-o-o-

There really is no point anymore.

It's gone so far beyond all thoughts of normality and reality that this will just have to happen. I don't know who this person is. I don't even have the joy of having seen a random body part so I can guess.

I am bleeding.

The pain in my chest is far greater than the pain of the rape. Can someone like me be raped? Can you rape a rapist? Because that is all I am. There is nothing of the real me left now.

I will let it happen.

I will stop being a problem for anyone then.

I am ………….I am………I can't think…..

…..my head – my brain………….

I want to respond…..oh god my body is

I am filth.

I am enjoying this….what does….what does this……….make me?

I need to breathe….I need……..I need …….oh god.

Everything is so far – so far away now and my chest…..my heart…..its tearing….he's taking me it will kill me and this is my last – my last thoughts need to be of Floyd.

I don't want--this

…………………………Why is it so quiet? The pain has stopped….everything has stopped.

All I know now is he likes what he is doing….and I am responding to it………and I want to….and I don't……………..I can't hear anything……….

-o-o-o-

Hotch got the call the next morning.

His cell phone buzzed on the shelf next to the bed he was laying on. He frowned and picked it up. Seeing the name of the person calling him he sat up quickly and spoke. His head was spinning but he wasn't sure if it was fear of if it because he sat up too fast. He still desperately needed a hair cut he pushed some wayward strands off his face away from his dark eyes as he spoke.

"Hotchner." and he listened and he thought he was going to be sick. "Do you know why?" Listening again. "I will come over….I'm in a motel not far from you. Give me half an hour." Listening again. "Well I don't really care. I will come over….at least you can tell me in person exactly what the hell happened." Pushing back the hair off his face again. He felt too hot and too sticky and wanted to go quickly and shower all this dirt off him. "Well maybe he needs to be in a different hospital." Listening again as he got up off the bed. "I understand that, but if this is going to happen I need him somewhere more able to care for him. I will be coming over. I will talk to you about this then." A pause. "Well you will have to make time to see me won't you." He snapped his phone shut and threw it onto the bed.

Quickly he went to the small bathroom and stripped off – leaving his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. It would have to be a quick shower but he couldn't go smelling like this!

As he soaped himself down he tried to work out what on earth could have happened. They say his heart stopped. That he stopped breathing….that he had a massive seizure and it was fortunate that he was on suicide watch….not that he could have done anything but they monitored carefully the guests they had restrained. Luckily one of the orderlies was checking when the fitting started. But still….this seemed extreme.

Hotch needed Spencer back. He needed to be able to put his arm around him to offer support. He wanted to be able to smell that special Spencer smell. The last thing he wanted was to be putting him in a box under the ground.

-o-o-o-

This was working out well. The second one was back again. As planned. They knew he would come running back again. Now all they had to do was hope that he was as predictable as they had been informed. Information on this one was available. There was a lot, but not enough time to study it as they had the other. They seemed to be close. This could really work out to their advantage.

-o-o-o-

Spencer had been moved to a different room….once more he was sedated and in restraints. Hotch walked in silence behind the doctor. He needed to see Reid before he talked to anyone. He needed to see that he was still alive.

He stepped up to the door they had opened but didn't go in. Reid was laying on his back on a bed. The thick sheepskin cuffs held his arms down at his sides and monitors were stuck to his chest. In the short time that Hotch had last seen him something bad had happened. He could see….he could tell. He turned to the doctor. "Exactly what happened?"

"Well as you know because of his violent outbursts we have been having to restrain him. The new medications were not working very well so we have been trying him on something different. Until then – until we know if it is going to be successful he will need to be kept safe. Last night during the watch the orderly checked in on him. He told me that Spencer was shaking and sweating and that he suddenly started to have a seizure. He called for assistance and it was during recovery of the seizure that his heart stopped. We are not equipped here for this sort of thing. You will have to move him to somewhere so he can be looked after in a more secure manner. We don't really want violent guests."

Hotch was looking at Spencer whist the doctor spoke to him. "I will need to talk to the orderly if you don't mind."

"Well I really don't think it is your place to be talking to my staff. I'm sorry that wont be possible. You may go and talk to Spencer but he is far from coherent."

Hotch nodded. At least this time Reid wouldn't be able to attack him. Thank the gods for small mercies.

Aaron walked slowly to the bed. He could see that Reid was covered in a sheen of sweat. His skin was so pale that it looked transparent. His eyes were open but just staring off into nowhere and his mouth was wording something, but Hotch couldn't hear what it was – if it was anything. Every few minutes Reid would roll his head around and his eyes would squeeze shut and then he would just lay and look out at nothing again. The machinery was bleeping gently, but there was something wrong. Hotch looked at Reid's eyes and then down at his hands.

"Reid." He spoke quietly not wanting to alarm Spencer. "Reid – I'll fix this."

Spencer's face turned to look at Hotch but his eyes were still unfocused. "Hotch?"

Aaron could see the redness of Spencer's eyes. He could see a small line of new bruises on his shoulders and his mouth was swollen. Something more than what they said had happened here. He could see where they had done chest compressions. He could see marks from the paddles which had passed electricity through his body. And he needed to feel something. To feel the sorry and pain he would have done in the past to see Reid like this but he just felt empty. There was nothing and he hated himself for it and he hated Spencer for causing it.

He had expected to feel anger at the staff for letting it happen but he didn't. He could see more had happened than they were admitting to and he knew that if he left Reid here he would end up dead or so far gone that there really would be no coming back from it.

"I'm taking him with me. He can't stay here." He had no idea where he was going to take him, but this wasn't the place. He thought he had chosen a good place here. There were good reports. He had read all the paperwork over and over again and it seemed like a place Reid could not only be kept safe and away from Flanders, but a place that he would hate – and that tiny feeling inside of Aaron – that need to punish Reid was still there, but this wasn't the way to do it.

"I'm sorry but he is very sick. He needs to stay here." The doctor looked a bit alarmed that Aaron had suggested this. Spencer was pulling in a lot of cash for them.

"Just get me the paper work. He can't stay here." Hotch began to undo the restraints on Spencer's wrist. "You are treating him like an animal." A sigh. He was an animal. Maybe he was sick but it had still made him do something to him that should never happen to any man. Or woman.

As they pulled off the monitors and frowned and put a Tshirt on over Reid's bare chest Hotch stood back. At first he had wanted to help. He didn't want them touching him, but now he realised that he didn't want to touch him either. He didn't want to feel how soft Spencer's skin was. He didn't want to feel the rhythm of his heard under his hands or be able to taste his sweat on him afterwards. He wasn't sure if this is how deeply he felt about Reid if he was going to be able to help him in any way at all. He would just have to get the orderlies to get Spencer into his car. He could call somewhere else from the car. He would sort it. He may not be able to look at Spencer for too long at a time without the flashbacks but he was determined he would fix this mess.

They sat Spencer in a wheel chair and took them back down to the parking lot. Hotch put the bag with Reid's things in on the back seat on the car and then watched as Reid stood and walked in wobbly steps and half crawled into the front passenger seat.

This was probably a mistake…but love is a strange thing….and the more he looked at how broken Spencer appeared to be the more he felt bad about feeling this need to hurt him.

To punish him.

They pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive away.

Spencer sat with his hands on his lap. He was so still. No wringing of the hands or wriggling or mutterings…just sitting staring out of the front window doing nothing.

Hotch kept glancing over at him. Hoping that Spencer would say something….and it was because of this distraction that he failed to see the car behind them getting very close and then passing.

He failed to see the second car behind them also getting in too close. Hotch slowed as the first car pulled over in front of them and slowed down forcing Hotch to break suddenly. As he did the car behind rammed into the back. The force of the blow from behind pushed Hotch's car forward and shunted it into the now stationary vehicle in front of them.

He heard a small yelp of surprise from Spencer as his head made contact with air bags and Spencer's hit the side window. In a slight daze Hotch made for the door handle of the car only to look up and see a gun pointing at him through the window.

Hotch kept very still. "Reid. Are you alright?" he muttered trying not to feel too alarmed….road rage was common. In reply though he heard Reid's door open. Aaron turned to see what Spencer was doing and saw another man with a big gun. This one was pointed at Reid's head.

"Get out of the car." Hotch was being spoken to but he chose to ignore it.

A hand reached out for Spencer and held his jaw as Hotch's door opened.

Reid was dragged from the car by his hair and the pistol was forced between his lips and into his mouth.

Hotch was pulled from the car with the gun pressed against his ribs.

"Agent Aaron Hotchner and Dr Spencer Reid. Glad you could make it. We are going to take you on a short trip to some nice place we have ready and Hotchner as you are the boss here it will be your agent Reid who will get his brains shot out if you don't do as I tell you. Do you understand?"

Aaron nodded slowly as he looked over at Reid who had now been pushed down onto his knees with the pistol still forced deep into his mouth.

There were about ten people here. Three of them had Reid. Hotch watched as they cuffed his hands behind his back and pushed the barrel of the gun further into Reid's mouth. They let Hotch see. They allowed him that much at least before turning him around and cuffing his hands behind his back. "What do you want with us?" Aaron had a good idea but he needed to engage them. This was what he was good at. He started to pull him towards the rear van. He couldn't go and leave Reid like that. He had to help him. This was his fault…he should have just left Reid in the hospital.

"Please just tell me what you want…and let him go." His answer was a smack around the side of the head with a pistol….he felt his knees give way as the stars jumped in front of his eyes. He heard a moan from behind him…

He heard a muffled gun shot.

He heard something falling to the floor.

As his head span and he tried again to see what they had done to Reid they dragged him into the back of the van and tied him down securely. Hotch needed to know what they had done with Reid.

He didn't want the sound of Reid being killed out on that empty road to be echoing through his mind forever. He felt the movement of the vehicle driving away from the scene and he felt someone sticking a needle in his thigh.

And he saw in the back of his mind as things started to get foggy….Reid laying in the road with his brains spread out behind him.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16 Questions

Chapter 16

Questions

_Questions__ are never indiscreet: answers sometimes are__: - __Oscar Wilde _

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

They laid him on a table with his hands down by his side. His eyes were open and staring straight ahead. His breathing shallow but regular. That didn't matter ….the fact that he was still breathing wouldn't show up on a few Polaroids. They made sure that the angle showed the blood. Head wounds bleed a lot. They made sure that it looked like a corpse. It was pretty convincing. They smiled at them and got bloody finger prints on them and then they carefully applied glue to his eyelids and closed his eyes for him. They let him keep his clothing on for now. That would be something they can use later. They dragged him to his cell and threw him against the wall where he let out a soft sigh and lay unmoving. He didn't resist as they cuffed him and pushed him against the wall. He was going to be easy to break. Half the job had been done already.

-o-o-o-

He wanted to open his eyes but something was stopping him. He could tell it wasn't daylight out. He could see that much through the tender skin on his eyelids.

Spencer was laying on his side with his hands behind his back. His hands were then secured to a ring set into the wall. There wasn't enough room for him to get up off the floor to stand. The most he could do was to pull his knees up tightly towards him. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself and feel the comfort of his own body warmth as he lay on the cold concrete floor, but that was an option they were not allowing. Again he tried to open his eyes but it was like in one of those nightmares when you are walking around or being chased and your eyes refuse to open; only Spencer knew that this was all real.

He could feel where he had been pistol whipped on the side of his head and he could feel other places where his body hurt, but he didn't know if these pains and hurts were from whoever brought him here or from before.

And he didn't know who these people where. He had no memory after kneeling on the ground with the gun pushed down his throat. He could remember the fear. The ache. He could remember thinking that this was the end. That whoever this was knew who they were and they had them here for a reason. These people were not going to mess around. They were not playing games. They had targeted him for a reason. He just had no idea what it was.

-o-o-o-

Aaron was standing. He was facing the wall with his hands secured above his head by flexcuffs onto a ring set into the wall. They had stripped him down to his boxers and told him to face the wall. He had been told not to move. If he did as he was told then life was going to be a lot less complicated for him. They didn't ask him his name…they already knew.

They knew about Haley and Jack. They knew about Sean. They knew too much. They even knew about Rosie. They gave him a list of information they had on him.

"Sharing. We like to share. Think about what we've told you. Think about what we've told you."

"Where is Reid?" Hotch didn't want to believe the thoughts he had in his head. He didn't want to think of him laying dead in the road with the back of his head missing. He couldn't think that. It was too much.

"You don't need to worry about him now. His problems are over. It's you we need."

His stomach hitched but he wasn't going to give in to terrorists or whoever these people were. "I want to see him."

"You are not in the position to make demands Hotchner. We are the ones making demands here. You – you need to shut up. You need to remember that we know exactly what and who you are. We know that you will try to talk your way out of this and we will not be listening to you unless you are talking about what we want. Move and you will regret it."

"I need to see Reid." He wasn't going to be bullied by these people however much of a better hand they had.

But he was ignored. They walked away and left him. He wanted to call out and shout. He couldn't stay here not knowing what had happened. He had the image of Reid kneeling with the gun pushed in his mouth. He had the image of those huge hazel eyes staring at the UnSub. Aaron bit down on his bottom lip as the memory of the gunshot echoed again through his mind. The sound of someone falling to the road. The images he meshed together to give him what he could see if whether his eyes were open or closed.

There was nothing preventing him from turning around. They had told him not to…they said he would regret it if he did, but they hadn't said what would happen and these people needed him. It was a risk he was going to have to take.

Hotch waited until it was complete silence. There was nothing. He slowly turned around with his hands twisted now above his head. The cell he was in was nothing remarkable. Three walls of mid grey and one of bars. Stuck to the bars were photographs.

Photographs of Haley and Jack….of Jack playing in the park…of Haley shopping in the city.

Photographs of Sean at work and at play.

Photographs of Rosie….and of him with Rosie.

And photographs of Reid. He was laid out and white and extremely dead looking. His hair had been pushed back off his face .. There was a dark red stain on the table he was laying on. His eyes had that odd clouded look that death delivered. The dark hazel eyes were dull and staring at nothing. His mouth slightly open had dark red dried blood at the corner where it had lay and pooled and there was a crust of blood under his nose.

Hotch wanted to turn around again and look away from what he had asked to see. He wanted to stop looking at Jack and Sean and Spencer. He wanted to rip them off the bars and tear them up and never have to see them again.

If he hadn't taken Spencer from the hospital this wouldn't have happened. He would be safe. He wouldn't be laying on some old table somewhere with his blood drying on him and his eyes clouding.

Slowly he turned around again. He wanted to scream and cry and protest and ask what this was all about, but he wasn't going to let them see how this was making him feel inside. Spencer knew – he knew – this was a risk – it was part of the job. Reid would forgive him.

Tears of anger wanted to escape and run down Aaron's face, but he held them back. They needed him. They wouldn't kill him. They didn't go to all this trouble just to kill him. Just wait it out. Find out what they want. Start talking to them again. Pull them in. He was good at that. It was what he was trained to do.

-o-o-o-

They made sure that he didn't sleep. Every ten minutes they kicked or prodded him to make sure he didn't sleep. They played a recording of a high pitched squeal to stop him from forming thoughts. They hosed him water and left him shivering in a puddle and they watched him carefully. They would choose their time carefully. Too far and they would get nothing.

With his hands still behind his back and a dog collar around his neck he was led by a chain out of his cell.

Spencer couldn't see where he was going and now his only thoughts and concerns were to get away from the sound melting his brain. He had no idea how long he had been laying in the wet of his cell but it was long enough for his body to not appreciate the sudden movement. His head was spinning and his knees were like jelly as they yanked on the collar and moved him away from the sound.

"Where am I?" His voice didn't sound like his. It was muffled and muted and distorted. He didn't get an answer. Spencer wondered if he had actually said the words at all. There seemed to be no reaction from the captors. He tried again. "What do you want with me?" Again nothing.

He tried walking slower. He needed to take back some of the control they had over him. He was sure they had taken him for a reason. They knew who he was. They knew a lot about him – so this was not some random kidnapping. Was it something to do with Floyd? Or with the group he had been with when he was with Ardal? Are they filming him again? Sending the pictures back to Garcia to look at and cry over. Again he slowed down a bit and this time was rewarded with a reaction.

"Move it!" and they pulled on the chain hard.

Reid could feel his balance going and his reflexes to put his hands out in front of him got him no result as his hands were still firmly held behind him. He felt himself fall forward and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Spencer managed to turn his head to the side as he went down, trying to avoid hitting his face on the hard floor he was walking across.

The collar dug into his neck as he tried to roll to his side and the dark stars flashed across his vision as the side of his head cracked against the floor. He let out a small moan of pain and tried to just lay there and do nothing.

"Get up." The voices were American accents. They didn't sound like foreigners. In Spencer's mind this meant they were probably home grown.

"I can't get up." The strain on the chain plus not being able to use his hands was making getting up again very difficult. When he tried to move to his front so that he could get to his knees again the person in control of the collar just dragged him forwards again. This time his face hit the floor.

Spencer felt his teeth split the skin on the inside of his lips as this time someone pulled him up onto his feet…spun him around and pushed him back until the back of his legs hit something and he was forced to a sitting position on a hard metal chair. He felt with his fingers along the back of the chair quickly trying to figure out what they had sat him on.

One ankle and then the other was secured to the chair legs and then a strap or belt was wrapped around his torso to keep him back against the chair. Reid's arms were crushed by the pressure of the restraints. He was beginning to panic again. These people weren't talking to him they were muttering amongst themselves and so he kept his head down and his mouth shut and tried to work out what Gideon would have done. His mind came back blank. Gideon would never have been in this position in the first place. It just wouldn't have happened.

He jumped slightly when someone grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Again he tried to open his eyes but couldn't.

"Dr Reid." A voice to his side. Still the sounds were distorted. He wanted to turn his head to face the person talking to him, but the hand was holding his head in place.

"We would like to ask you some questions."

Again the voice was to his side and sounded a long way off and muffled. Reid didn't respond. He sat very still in the chair and sucked on the place in his lip which was bleeding.

"Are you listening to me Dr Reid?"

Once more he didn't respond. He wasn't going to talk to these people.

"Dr Reid, we have chosen you because we know that you are going to give up the information we need. We have chosen you because we know you will do anything to protect those you love."

Spencer bit down harder on the place on his lip making it bleed more as his teeth crunched through the flesh.

"We have chosen you because you are weak – Dr Reid. You caved in once before. You gave in to Hankel. You will again."

Spencer wanted to see who was talking to him….he wanted to respond and tell them he didn't give in the Hankel but he knew he had. He knew that he had given up and only pure chance got him out of that situation. What did they know about that? How did they know? And what did that have to do with what was going on now?

"We are going to start with something very simple Dr Reid. Your security clearance code."

Spencer remained silent.

"You need time to think? I will give you time to think. Gentlemen. Let's step away and give the Doctor time to consider his answer." Reid felt the hand let go of his hair. "Let his friend come over – maybe he can persuade him to tell us what we need to know….because we know you talk Dr Reid. We know."

-o-o-o-

I don't know what they want with me. They are government men…I can smell it on them. I think it has something to do with Spencer but I can't be sure. This is not what I expected from my life you know.

They've put me in a cell. They have given me a general slapping around but nothing I can't handle. They won't answer my questions and man, do I have a load of them!

It bothers me that they know such a lot about me. They know things that even Spencer never knew. I have no idea how they know all this crap or why they need it….though I suspect that it is just a show of strength.

Spencer stopped coming to see me after that last Floyd incident. It feels like a long time ago now. I miss him. Spencer was special. I could see myself living out the rest of my life with Spencer but that damned Floyd had to get in the way. First Hotchner and then Floyd.

They have done some strange stuff here with me though. I've been here a few days…maybe a week, it's hard to tell when you have no way except when you start to feel hungry. They have given me stuff to keep me going. Something to snort. Something to smoke. That's ok – they're not hurting me except for that first time when they brought me here. Then they got rough just to keep me in place. To show me. That's fine. I can see the reason for that. I would see the reason so much better if I knew why. It doesn't seem as though I am in trouble. I don't think it's anything I've done wrong. I don't know though.

They said they had a treat for me today. At first I wondered if this was a porn organisation again….but no…more likely government. I can smell it. I can smell the red tape and the official aftershave they all have to wear.

I think if they stripped for me they would all that 'General Issue Government Man' stamped on their arses. Maybe I will ask.

Well they came and got me and now I am standing in a room with a bottle of solvent in my hands and that's it. The lights are out. I can see nothing. I've been told to feel around. Do what I think I should. Apparently I will know when I get there and so here I go. One step forwards into nothing. I have no idea what is out there and so the hand with nothing in it is sort of flailing around in front of me. I don't want to walk into something hanging down…or another wall.

Now I can hear something. Breathing? Someone is in here with me. Damnit. I don't know what to do. I don't know what this other person is going to do. Are they walking around with a bottle of something in their hands too? My steps are small…and shuffling. I expect that the other person can hear me, but when I stand still and rest my hand on my chest to try to control the panic I am beginning to feel I notice that the breathing sound isn't moving. Whoever it is, is stationary – so I take control of my own panic. I take some deep breaths and take another step forward. There is a temptation inside of me to call out and ask who the hell it is there waiting in the dark, but what if they are waiting for just that? What if they have a gun aimed at me? Another small step forward and the breathing is directly in front of me.

My hand touches something and I snatch it back quickly. It was hair. It felt like hair, but not someone my height. Maybe they are sitting down. Carefully I place the bottle on the floor and put out both hands and they touch the hair again. A small sound is released from this person and my fingers know that hair. I know who this is.

"Spencer?" I whisper it like it is a question but there is no doubt and so I kneel down. "Spencer what the hell?"

And he leans forward onto me and rests his head on my chest. At first I think he is crying, but he isn't. He is shaking though and now what do I do? Why was I given solvent?

* * *


	17. Chapter 17 Getting Together

Chapter 17

_Nothing is more exciting and bonding in relationships than creating together_

Getting Together

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

I need to contact Rossi.

It stinks that I feel I have to do this but someone has Spence.

I went to the hospital – my plan had reached its climax and I was hoping I would be too soon. Without having to use my own hand – but he was gone. I 'spoke' to one of the members of staff there and finally managed to get the information I needed. Agent Aaron Hotchner took him. I am hoping not in more ways than one.

I feel so damned tired.

Nothing is flowing right. I am pushing against things the whole time and Sam is driving me to distraction. He is demanding that I start his training, but this isn't the time. He says it is the perfect opportunity to show him how to track but my mind is too uh – distracted by where the hell Spence is to give a toss about Sam right now.

He is a fucking trouble maker. He might only appear to be a kid but his hormones are that of much older person, and seeing a child lust after someone is wrong. It is just so wrong.

I beat him. I whipped him…I kicked him until he stopped moving…but it makes no difference. He is me. He will be a little shit and there is no stopping him. I know. Same thing happened to me. My raging hormones have put me in all sorts of trouble.

Back though to the problem. I know that something has gone wrong. I was able to track to this point and here I am standing in the road. Sam is by my side. A smaller version of me looking up at me waiting for me to do something and really I want to tell him to go away and leave me alone. The feelings I am getting when I touch the road cut deep.

This is partly how I do it. I can pick up latent feelings. I suppose a bit like they say people leave behind a recording of themselves when they die. You know how they see or hear old battles and marching soldiers. You can see them. You can hear them, but you can't interact with them. Well this is what I feel. I can feel Spence. There is blood on the road.

When I crouch down to touch the blood Sam is there with me asking questions.

"Shut up." I tell him…"How the hell can I concentrate with you blabbing in my ear?" And he stands and crosses his arms and looks like a little version of me and it does make me smile.

Damnit I love my Rosa to bits. I love her and I would die for her – no….I will let someone else die for her and I will applaud their death, but Sam is different. Sam I really would happily stop existing for, but only because I know he is me. I don't know if that make sense, but all of what I am will just get transferred. He is my stand by. If I get reset….back to the start of this crap then Sam is what I would be. Though this age – not the best. I think really when Spence was coming on 13 and I was with him for that time….that's what I would like to feel again. That freshness. That feeling of new experiences from both of us. That time made me think. It gave me a lot of time to think and then go away and prepare and part of that preparation was Sam…and part of it was Rosa and I need both parts to carry on my immortality. That is how we become immortal. We spring a few sprogs and then -Bing Bang Boom….there it is….your eternal self.

So back to here and now.

I put my fingers to my lips and taste the blood. I do it slowly. I can smell it before my lips taste it. I can smell the sweetness and then I can taste Spence. Maybe I made a small noise, I'm not sure but Sam is back at my side and a small pale hand is on my arm.

"What is it?" His voice sounds like mine. He sounds like me but how I spoke at the beginning of time.

I can feel a funny clenching in my stomach. Spence was here. I can feel his fear and I shock and I can taste his blood.

I'm not so tuned into Hotchner. I can't feel and taste him so well, but still I can feel him here. He was here too and he was also fearful, but not for himself. Slowly I walk away from the smear of blood in the road and I can feel - like you can see a wave of heat in the desert – I can feel Hotchner still here and I know someone has taken them both – but the fear I feel from Hotchner isn't for himself. He isn't afraid they will hurt him…he is screaming his fear and pain for whatever just happened to Spence.

The hand rests again on my arm. "Dad – you don't look well."

And so I shake his arm away and put my hand in his face and tell him to fuck off and give me space to think. He's getting in the way. I can't do this with him here. It is like my feelings are being leached out and fed to him as well….but still again I know that I need to show him this stuff or he will never know and then I will never know…and I can't show him….a cycle of stuff which has to be topped up and kept strong.

I have to tell Rossi.

He would understand.

He listens to me. I will take the kid with me – no – no what the hell am I thinking….Sam is still missing. Shit….what a fucking mess….it's the Trent's I have to see and sort.

Looking at Sam standing next to me I smile at him.

"I will show you how to extract heart and liver. Time to take you home for home last visit."

Sam smiles back at me and so I take his hand and we walk away and off the road and make our ways across country and towards Sam's old home.

-o-o-o-

They left them together for a short while. Not long. Not long enough even for them to be able to communicate. It was just a tease. It was just to let Spencer know that they had Ardal.

One minute there were comforting hands running over his face and resting on his shoulders. A gentle kiss on the side of the face and then nothing. Spencer let out a cry of despair as Ardal was suddenly pulled away and thrown to the side. He wanted to beg him to come back and hold him again but he wasn't going to give into these people.

"Your security code." The voice was close – somewhere out there in the dark. "Or we will hurt your friend."

Reid said nothing. He wasn't going to tell them what they wanted. There was no way in hell they would get that information off him and so when the screams started and the beggings for them to stop and the sounds of something hard hitting flesh Reid pulled against his bonds and tried to get to Ardal and help.

"Your security code." He was asked again. This time the voice was closer. "I think it's time we let you see what is going on. I had hoped your friend would have done this for you, but he was too interested in touching you than helping you." There was a pause in the small speech - long enough for Spencer to hear his name being called out and to hear coughing and gagging sounds. He didn't hear the sound of the lid being unscrewed from the bottle laying on the floor near to his feet.

If anything else happened Reid didn't know. Whatever it was in the bottle was squirted on his face and across this eyes. It went up his nose and in his mouth. It poured and dripped into the cuts on his lips. It dripped across his brow and ran down his cheeks and as he screamed it went into his mouth and down the back of his throat.

Spencer thrashed around and tried to wipe the liquid off his face. He spat and gulped in lung fulls of tainted air. If someone was talking to him he didn't know but he could feel slowly the glue holding his eyes shut slowly un-sticking and in place of the fear of his eyes not being able to be opened was the agonizing pain of something slowly dripping into his large hazel eyes and it felt like it was burning away his eyes and he didn't know what the liquid was running down his face anymore and he pulled on the restraints and screamed and coughed and choked and tried to pull his feet away from the chair but he could do nothing. He closed his eyes tightly and let his tears wash away the burning.

Reid continued to spit as this mouth began to react to the chemical. He could feel that his throat was getting tighter as it burned and slowly started to cut off his air supply. His screams got quieter and his breathing more difficult.

It felt as though the world was tipping and falling and when the back of his head smacked against the floor he realised that the chair had either toppled back or had been pushed back. His mind shot back to his time in the cemetery with Hankel and the panic was beginning to rip through his body ten fold.

Someone was holding his face and pushing something between his blistered lips. He wanted to fight it. The last thing he remembered seeing way back on the road was someone pushing a gun down his throat but only this time it wasn't a gun. They held his head still and tipped it back and forced a tube down his throat. He could feel it ripping and tearing into him as they forced it down his tightening oesophagus. They didn't want him dead. They needed the information first. They needed to talk to him first. They needed to know who the hell Flanders was and how much he knew.

They stood and watched Reid's eyes roll back and the struggling stop but he was still breathing. They looked at his red puffy eyes and at the huge blisters forming over his skin. He would be alright. A big of pain was character forming. It made a man out of you. Even if in their eyes it was too late to make anything of this bit of traitorous scum.

-o-o-o-

He stood facing the wall still. The images behind him. He needed to keep them behind him. He couldn't afford to let it bother him. He tried to do his old trick of putting nice things in place of the crap…but as all the nice things he would have thought of were the things they were using against him it wasn't easy to do.

Hotch thought of food. Nice food in and eating in a nice place, but his mind kept wanting to add a second person to the scene. Either Jack or Spencer or Rosie kept appearing in his visions. Strangely enough Haley didn't seem to encroach in his thoughts here.

Then the screaming started. He stopped thinking and just listened. He could hear the sounds clearly of someone being attacked. It didn't sound quite right though. Maybe a recording….no…..it was being fed via speakers. They were making sure he could hear it.

Aaron frowned. If they wanted him to hear it then they thought he would know who it was. His mind began to race now. It wasn't Spencer. Even if it could have been it wasn't. It was a male voice. It wasn't Morgan and it wasn't Rossi.

Hotch bit down on his bottom lip and thought again. It wasn't Floyd. It was more likely to be him doing the damage then receiving it. He thought of Sean and then dismissed it…it wasn't him either. Hotch had no idea who it could be.

His thought that is was being fed via speakers of some kind was enforced when the sound suddenly cut off. Total silence followed. A complete nothing.

Aaron stood and waited for something to happen. They were probably watching him – he knew that much. They would want to see how he reacted to the screams, but he didn't react. Now what? Something else. Something he would recognise? But there was nothing.

His arms hurt from being pulled tight above his head. His back ached from having to stand in this position for so long. He wanted to turn around and give his tired body something to do. He could feel the muscles pulling in his back and bunching and getting ready to cramp in the backs of his legs. He had to move. He closed his eyes though. He didn't want to see those images again. He couldn't bare the thought of seeing those snap shots of Reid.

He slowly turned around giving his muscles something to do and as he did so he wondered where Reid was now. What had they done with his body? He would ask. He would ask to see him.

The chains pulled and dug into his wrists as he made a full circle and then started a slow journey back again. Still with his eyes shut – he thought maybe he should look. Maybe he was being weak by not looking at them, but his heart was already breaking. Then again that might be the last image he would every have of him. The last time he would see him – which memory did he want stuck in his head? He kept his eyes shut and moved back to face the wall.

Why had they not been back to talk to him. How can he negotiate with them and try to pull back some control if they wouldn't talk to him? They had offered no water or food…they hadn't talked to him and the only communication had been via the sounds and the photographs.

-o-o-o-

They had all the evidence they needed. They knew he was a traitor. They knew he had blabbed and talked. They had heard it…they had seen it. They didn't need that from him. What they needed was to break him completely so they knew exactly who he had talked to. Was there anyone else beside Ardal Trent and Floyd Flanders that he had opened his stupid mouth to?

The whore Reid had spent time with was dragged away. They had beaten him unconscious and wouldn't be any use to them for a while now. Hotchner they would use later…right now he was still too resistant. Still too in control. They would slowly reach the point with him where they could use him again Reid too. Right now it wouldn't work.

They stood and looked down on him in more ways than one as the medic worked on keeping him from suffocating.

"This wasn't one of your brightest ideas." One of the suits said. "How the hell will we get him to talk now?"

"He will be fine by the morning. Just keep his airway open."

"He won't be fine by the morning. Have you any idea how much damage this has done to him? He won't be talking to us for a while now."

"It is of no problem. It means that his lover will have more time to heal…and we will have more time to break Hotchner a bit more. Unless we have a change of plan you haven't told me about yet?"

The short balding man who looked like he was in charge stepped in and prodded Spencer with his foot. "Keep him alive. I need to know who he talked to and I need to know how to get Flanders. WE don't really have a need for Ardal Trent. You can dispose of him – or just persuade him that he won't mention this to anyone. Might give your boys something to practice on. This one though…" Looking down at Reid. "He can be used, but you need to be careful with him. I want him broken, but I want him usable. I am sure you can manage." He turned and walked away.

-o-o-o-

Rossi stood in the drive way of the home of the Trent-Saviours. The phone call had been received in the early hours of the morning. The police were there in a few minutes but it was already much too late for them.

Dave pulled blue gloves onto his hands and protectors over his feet and went over to join Morgan.

Derek turned to look at him. "This is nasty." He put the crime scene pictures into Rossi's hands. He flicked through them and handed them back.

"And the bodies are still here?"

"I asked them to leave them for now. I think you need to see this."

Rossi nodded and sighed and then the two of them walked up the steps to the front door.

The blood either started or stopped here. There were bloody fingerprints and foot marks. Small. Small enough to be those of a child. The fingerprints were all smeared and partials. Nothing good here. Nothing good at all.

They were lead through the house to the kitchen. There were splats of blood everywhere. Up the walls and puddling on the floor and dripping off the work surfaces. The body of Sam's mother was laying on the floor. Her arms down at her side and her dress pushed up high. Her knees were bent and pushed apart. She was laying in a puddle of blood. The most alarming thing though was the damage done to her chest. She had been ripped open. There didn't seem to be a weapon. No knives had been found yet. They were told by the crime people that her heart had been removed as had her liver. Morgan wanted to be sick and the sudden feel of a hand on his arm was of surprising comfort.

"They are going to see if she was raped. I don't think I have much doubt that she was, but they think if she was it was post mortem." Derek's voice was almost a whisper. "Parts of what appears to be her heart were found on one of the work surfaces, as were bits of liver. The left overs."

Rossi nodded. "The father?"

They were now escorted to the library were they had first talked to the parents. Again there was blood everywhere. Over the books on the shelves and on the floor…some had dripped off the ceiling. Mr Trent-Saviour had been left on his front laying over a desk. His lower clothing had been pulled down to his thighs. He had blood over his back and running down his legs.

"He was moved when the medics arrived…they though he might still be alive…but like his wife – his chest has been ripped open and the heart and liver are missing. He was raped peri mortem. He has bruises.

"So first their child goes missing and now this. There has to be a connection." Derek stated the obvious.

-o-o-o-

They sat by the river and smiled at each other. Sam had done good. Floyd was proud of him. They ate and then they stripped and stood in the river. Floyd held Sam close and they both ran hands over each other.

To Floyd this seemed natural. Sam was him.

To Sam this was the bonding he needed so badly…and something he knew Rosa would never get.

Floyd loved his son…and Sam loved his dad.

* * *


	18. Chapter 18 Half Time

Chapter 18

_Tin Het once said: - Screw it…I'm not writing anymore tonight_

Half Time

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

They stood together in front of the Government building. Floyd knew that they had to do something. He wondered if anyone even knew that something had happened. He hated asking for help and he didn't want the trouble to multiply because of Sam, but, as far as Floyd knew they had no pictures of Sam….the one which was missing. Funny coincidence.

Floyd put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Follow my lead. Defer to me. I will do the talking. Don't answer any questions. You are here to observe and to learn."

Sam nodded and pushed his hair back behind his ears. He was wearing dark jeans and a Tshirt with an unbuttoned black shirt over the top. Floyd had on black jeans and a dark dropped sleeved loose fitting shirt messily tucked into his waistband. Both of them had on dusty cowboy boots.

They were stopped at the main doors. Security wanted to know who they were. Floyd frowned and told the guy that he needed to talk to Agent David Rossi. That is was urgent. Sam stood slightly behind him listening and learning.

Security told him to wait while he want and made a call to let Rossi know he had visitors. Did he want security to send him and the child he was with up?

The guy came back to Floyd and indicated a place to wait.

"No thank you. I will wait outside. Tell him I am there."

Floyd turned and touched Sam on the shoulder giving him a gentle push back out of the building. He didn't like it in there. It was horribly claustrophobic and the guys with guns and no brains sort of put him on edge. He sat on the small wall just outside and thought about what he was going to say to Rossi. How he was going to explain it. He lit up and passed the smoke to Sam and then took another out for himself.

"Sam – I need you to not say a thing about last night."

"I won't.

"He might ask you a direct question."

"You told me to keep my mouth shut and I will. I'm a genius….I can figure out what that means."

-o-o-o-

I'm not happy that Flanders is here. There is too much going on. Too much and now he is involved somehow. There is no way I will permit him to come up to the office. Morgan is with me. We will talk to him together. Security said he had a child with him. The thought that he has a child with him is a bit of a worry. I wouldn't want a child of mine hanging around with that man. God only knows how he is corrupting the child.

I don't know what it is he wants to talk to me about. This bothers me too. The man doesn't possess a good bone in his body. What could he need to talk to me about? With the urgency he obviously had….and in person. The lift is going too fast. I wanted to have more time to think and work out how I wanted to react to him but now the doors are opening and Morgan has been talking to me and I don't think I heard a word of it.

"Just stay calm. We don't know what he wants." I said…..but if that had any relevance to what Derek had been saying I don't know.

We walked out into the sunshine and I put my shades on. I hated squinting out the light when I needed to talk to someone. It was yet another unnecessary distraction. They had their backs to us. Sitting on the boundary wall. A man and a young boy and something about it made my skin crawl I could sense Derek's tension as he stood with me. This wasn't the time for him to lose his temper about things but

I wanted him here too. I needed the moral back up. I had no idea what Flanders wanted of me.

I walked slowly down the path and around to his side so he could see me. He didn't look up, but the child did. Again my skin crawled at the sight. It was a miniature version of Flanders. I didn't know who the hell he was but I could see with no doubt that in some way the child was related to Flanders….or it was a nasty coincidence. The child didn't talk…he didn't smile he just looked up at me with cold dark eyes which seemed to reflect back at me hell it's self.

It was now that I was standing directly in front of them both and Morgan was at my side that Flanders stood up. He was clean. His hair was clean and he seemed to be growing a bit of a moustache and chin hair. He was also wearing small wire rimmed glasses. He had a surgical brace strapped to his left arm. He didn't smile as he stood, but he placed a hand on the top of the child's head in a 'stay there' gesture.

"I asked to talk to you. I don't need him here." Flanders was talking to me and meaning Morgan.

"It is always better that there is more than one pair of ears to listen. What was it you needed?" I wasn't going to be bullied by this man and I wasn't going to show my dislike for him in front of a child. Even if it did look – judging by the child's hands' – that he smoked. But funnily enough I don't think he was here to bully. He seemed to have a different demeanour when he was around me. I could see the boy was now eyeing up Morgan so with that distraction out of my way I asked again.

"You wanted to talk to me about something."

Flanders nodded and stood in his own strange fashion of hands by his sides leaning back slightly and watching me carefully. "I think you need to contact Agent Aaron Hotchner." Flanders took his hand off of the boy's head and took a step towards me. "And maybe Spence too. I think you will find them hard to locate."

I took a step back away from him. I didn't like the smell. He has a strange smell. Not a rotting smell but a dark musky manly smell. "What do you know….you obviously want to tell me something. You know something. Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess."

"I tracked him. Hotchner took Reid from the hospital. Someone took them. There was fear. There was blood in the road. I need you to help me locate them."

"You need to explain a bit better about your reasons for suspecting that there is a problem." I looked at Morgan who was stepping away from the group and pulling his cell phone off his belt.

"I trust you Agent Rossi. I need you to trust me."

Well that just wasn't going to happen. This was all a bit strange. Too much was unexplainable. I needed to wait until Morgan had made the calls.

"Who is the child?" I needed to know this. The situation was wrong.

"Sam." Was the simple reply. "You don't need to worry about him. He is my child."

I looked at the boy again who was sitting watching Morgan. Dark eyes and pale skin….long dark hair and a girlish face. Was this the same Sam as from the Trent-Saviours? There was no one to ask now. There were no photographs to compare and the parents were very dead.

"I see – nice to meet you Sam." I put a hand out to shake and got a small pale cold hand placed in mine. He didn't talk. He glanced sideways at his father as though asking for permission which he didn't receive. The child kept quiet.

-o-o-o-

He was still laying on his back with his hands behind his back tied to the chair when they came in to get him. His throat was in agony. They had ripped out the tube and left him struggling to breath and cough up blood and mucus. His eyes were open now…well at least not glued shut but now they were so swollen and red that they were stuck together with muck from his tear ducts. They had offered him no water and no food.

Now though he could feel they were untying his feet and grabbing him by his shoulders until he was standing swaying in damp messy sweat bottoms and a Tshirt stuck to him with sweat and drool.

"Strip."

Spencer thought about this but his brain was so confused now that it was as much as he could do to just stand. When he didn't react to the commands they didn't ask again. They moved in and pulled his sweat pants down and pulled them over his bruised ankles and threw them to one side. His boxers were left on him, but they were also damp with sweat stuck to him uncomfortably.

He wanted to ask what they wanted of him, but his mouth hurt and when he tried to talk he could feel the skin on his lips splitting. A collar was put around his neck again and they pulled him from the room he had been in. He wanted to know where Ardal was. He wanted to make sure he was alright. Spencer needed to know where Hotch was, but he had been effectively silenced by the chemicals and the tube they had forced down into him to stop his oesophagus closing and killing him….they didn't want that to happen. Spencer knew that much.

He was taken back to the cell he had been in originally and was pushed to sit on the floor around about the centre of the room. They then attached his hands which were still held behind his back to a ring on the floor. They then walked off and left him. He wanted to call out but again the captors weren't going to give him that luxury.

Spencer sat and tried to get his eyes to open. He needed to at least be able to see what was going on. Just as he forced them open a crack…a tiny amount of light creeping through his sore and swollen eyelids…he heard foot steps and something else. Something which he really didn't like the sound of.

Dogs.

* * *

**A/N: REALLY UBER SORRY…..BEEN VERY ILL TODAY AND THIS IS ALL I CAN MANAGE….DEEP DEEP APPOLOGIES….I PROMISE TO MAKE UP FOR IT TOMORROW!! LOVES AND HUGGLES FOR ALL MY LOVELY READERS AND REVIEWERS….**

**I COULD MAYBE HAVE NOT POSTED….BUT COULDN'T NOT!! THANK YOU!! PANICBUTTON!!**


	19. Chapter 19 In Thought and in Word

Chapter 19

In Thought and in Word

_I'm not supposed to love you, I'm not supposed to care, I'm not supposed to live my life wishing you were there. I'm not supposed to wonder where you are or what you do...I'm sorry I can't __help__ myself, I'm in love with you__: - Anon_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine

* * *

I can hear dogs. Oh god what are they going to do with dogs...?

They still haven't actually asked me anything yet…I don't know what they want of me. They called me a traitor. I don't understand. I don't know what I've done wrong. If that is the problem then these are our own people. I don't know what I can do to persuade them that I didn't do anything.

The dogs are getting closer and I want to stand up, but they have secured me to the floor again. I can just about see. If they would talk to me. If they would ask me why I did it then I could maybe work out what it is I have done.

They are getting closer… I want to wrap my arms around me and try to protect my body from the fear welling up inside but they have kept my hands tight behind my back since they took me. I cant feel my hands anymore. They are numb. My shoulders keep going into spasms as they try to stay awake for me, but it's not working.

Oh god the door. They are at the door. I can just about see them now. Big black dogs. Saliva a drool dripping from their faces. They have collar and leash and they are being held on tightly to by their keepers. Why are they doing this? Why do they need to do this? I can't escape – it's not like I am going to get up and walk away so what are they doing?

Dear god they are opening the door now.

I want to close my eyes. I don't want to see what is happening. All I can remember are the dogs Hankel had and I know my bladder wants to empty with the damned fear I am feeling now. I want to scream at them to stop. I want to confess all, and again I am ripped out of this world and thrown back to Hankel and the one thing I want more than anything right now is Tobias and his magic to let me slid away and never have to see this. Not have to face this.

The dogs.

They are too close but as I turn and try to get away I know there is no point. If they are going to kill me now there is nothing I can do to stop it. But there is no pain yet. No pain from the dogs at least. Just the pain of my own humiliation as I cry and make noises from the back of my throat which is horribly swollen and damaged from the treatment it has received.

The dogs….

Dogs don't like me at the best of times… this is a long way from the best and so I keep my head down. It exposes my neck I know but I need to keep my face safe.

Someone is talking to me but I can't hear the words. My brain is too confused and messed up. I can't understand what he is saying to me.

Someone now is grabbing my hair and pulling my face up so that they can look at me, and so I squeeze my eyes shut because I don't want to see them. I don't want to see who is doing this to me. I don't want to recognise them. I don't want to have seen them before.

I don't want to have shared the elevator with them in the morning. I don't know how I would deal with that. With it being so certain.

A voice is being screamed into my face now and my head is wrenched back further and I have to concentrate on what they are saying because all I can think of is the dogs and I can smell the dogs and I can smell their breath and so I force myself to open my eyes and look at the person shouting at me.

"Fucking faggot bastard!" He is shouting at me. I want to blink the words away. I want to tell them that it's not like that, but my throat is closing up again in the panic and the way my head is being held. "Who else have you been screwing?" The words make no sense to me. I don't know what they want. "Who else have you been talking to?" This last bit came from a voice to my side and my head's pulled back further.

My throat. I want to put my hands to my neck and let them know I can't breathe. My airway is too constricted to let even the smallest bit of oxygen into my body. I can feel my chest heaving and my lungs trying to pull in air which it can't and it's making my eyes water and my torso shake.

Again I am trying to open my eyes. Maybe they will see I can't breathe, but they will have to let me go soon. I can see the greyness sliding over my eyes and the room is slipping sideways.

I haven't been talking to anyone. I don't know what they mean. I can't think and now all I can hear again is the dogs growling and even that sounds like it is coming from a long way off. I didn't even realise they had let go of my hair. I only know because I have fallen sideways into a heap at. I want to ask them to undo my hands, but I am rolling onto my front and trying to get to my knees and I am taking in huge painful gasps of dank air …

….and just as I manage it they are pulling my head up again. I know that the skin on my lips has split again. I can taste the blood and a careful exploration with my tongue proves it to me.

Shouting again. "Who else have you slept with?"

"I don't know what you – what you mean." My voice is a hoarse whisper and it sounds as though someone else said those words. It was so far from it sounding like me.

Hard hands on my shoulders pushing me back and my arms are screaming in pain as they are crushed between my body and the floor. They are pulled uncomfortably and I can hear that I am making little whimpering sounds now and I hate myself for it.

I am stronger than this. They just need to tell me what they want.

"Who else beside Ardal Trent have you been sticking your dirty self in? Who else do you fuck?!"

They voice is loud and demanding and now a shooting pain as a boot meets with my ribs. "No one!" I want to shout it out, but I can't and so again it sounds pathetic and stupid and I wonder if that is why they hurt Ardal, because they think I said something I shouldn't have. "I haven't – haven't said anything I shouldn't." And yet again I want to cry at the small wining moaning voice that came out of my mouth.

I can smell my sweat and my fear and I don't know if I understand what they need from me. They think I've said something to someone to Ardal or Floyd. Oh my god no…that's the name they want. They want Floyd.

Now I am laying on my back I can attempt to pull my legs up to my chest. I don't think I will ever get the use of my arms again. There is no feeling no below the elbows and my shoulders are still being wrenched back at an unnatural angle.

I can feel tears running down the side of my face and it makes me look weak and stupid….it makes it look like they are winning but I have nothing to say to them. I don't know what they want apart maybe from Floyd's name, and I'm not giving them that. I am sniffing up the snot trying to escape down my face too and wiping away what I can by turning my head to the side and catching my face on what I can reach of my shoulders. They feel too hot. They feel damaged. I don't know what has been done…I just know that they feel dislocated now. Whether they are or not is another question and another answer I don't have.

"We want the names of all the people you have fucked!"

They keep shouting this at me and I am not going to answer them. I don't want them to know my confusion. I need to look as though I am in control here. I need to stay with it.

Now they are rolling me onto my front and this at least gives my arms and back a bit of a rest from the digging pulling grinding pain they are in. I realise that they have released me from the ring in the middle of the floor – but really there is still nowhere I can go. A small square cell with bars along one wall. What is there to do? Nothing I can do nothing.

I try to get to my knees and crawl away but they're not going to let me do that. They have the dogs…

"Keep still you little pervert whore or the dogs will have you."

A risk worth taking? They want information from me, but the thought of dogs attacking and not being able to defend forces me to keep still. I am on my knees and leaning forward. I can see tears of frustration and anger falling to the cell floor and suddenly I am torn back. Ripped back to Taki and I keep still and I will keep my head down because I know - I know – that this will keep me safe. I take short sharp breaths trying to control the tightening in my chest which I know is the beginning of a panic attack. I am an FBI agent….we don't have panic attacks! I am trained to cope with this sort of thing so why isn't it working? Why am I not coping?

I can feel hands on the back of my boxers and they are pulling them down at the back….I don't want to think about what they intend doing to me. I can't think about it or I will scream and I'm not going to be able to do that properly…and I don't want to give them the satisfaction that they have got to me.

"Who are you?" I finally manage to ask….I can hear their muttering and now I can feel something cold on my back. They have pushed me hard onto my front now so that I am laying down. I am looking out to my right but my eyes aren't actually locked onto anything….they are seeing beyond here. My mind is trying to escape from this.

They don't answer my question. Well at least not with words. I can feel them now and they are pulling me. Grabbing my hips and positioning me…and so this is something I can do something about. I will resist this.

I crawl forward as best I can but they won't let me do that…and now in my face. A boot in my mouth is making me cough as my mouth fills with blood and I am spitting and my nose is bleeding and my eyes are watering and now something cold on my back and as I struggle and try to get out of the way they show me what it is.

A revolver and I lay there and I am staring at it and all I can see is Hankel's dead eyes and I killed him. I killed Tobias….

And the gun is pressed in my face and all I can do now is stare back at the hand holding the weapon.

It's dragged away. I can feel it against my skin. It moves over my neck and there is rests for the shortest of whiles.

"Who else?"

A question I won't ever answer.

"Who else do you screw with? Who else?"

And the revolver is moving over my shoulder and down my twisted arm held behind my back.

"You need to start talking to us Dr Reid."

And it's resting – no it's pressing down into my ribs. If they pull the trigger I will be dead. I know that. They know that – but I won't tell them about Floyd.

They are holding me still now. Hands on my ankles. I want to pull away again but I can't - I can hardly breath with the blood in my mouth and up my nose and it's dripping on the floor and running down the side of my face and I try to call out with my mind. I try to call for help.

'_Floyd.'_

Just the one word. I am too afraid that I will shout out for real if I say too much and that would be the ultimate betrayal. I want to be sick. I want to throw up everything I have ever eaten.

I can feel the revolver sliding over my backside and the temptations to scream and struggle are strong, but I am trying to show that they can't get information from me like this. They can't do it.

I keep still.

Oh god no…please don't do this to me. I turn my head so that my forehead is resting on the cold cell floor and I feel them sliding the revolver into me. I hear them cock the gun ready.

They are trying to scare me and hell – it's working. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of other things but they are shouting commands at me. Telling me to talk to them. Telling me to tell them the names of all my partners and I shout out – finally I shout at them because they are raping me with a gun and I have to tell them something.

"I don't know their names!" And it's a shout but a hoarse shout and it's not the truth…but I don't know what to do to get them to stop this abuse.

"LIAR" they shout back at me and they press harder with the gun…and I humiliate myself in more ways now as the world goes dark and fear of what they are going to do next lets me go away into a dream world where no one can hurt me.

And somewhere in my dreams which slowly turn into nightmares are the sounds of Hankel's dogs.

-o-o-o-

How can I persuade these goons that there is a problem?

I don't like it that Morgan is here too. I don't like him….I don't trust him – but I need Rossi. I do trust him. He is different.

I can see they are curious about Sam, but now isn't the time to go into the details on why I have my son with me.

"I know you don't like me…and I know you don't want to listen to what I have to say but I promise you that Spence is in trouble somewhere. I will take you to the crime scene." I turn to Sam and step towards him. I have realised that there is nothing – not one part of that child that I dislike – no – I go further than that…it might be love. As I said before…he is me. I am him. We are the same. I put my hand out and touch the top of his head and he looks up at me with eyes do dark and so deep that they try to suck me in with them. How had the others managed with this living in their home?

I lick my lips with the memory and I feel Sam's hand reach out for mine and accidentally brush against the front of my jeans.

My heart skips a beat and I take that hand tightly into my right hand.

"I have a bike or I can direct you from your vehicle."

….But Rossi has turned from us and is talking in hushed tones to Agent Derek Morgan. I in turn move to face Sam.

"You are not to trust the dark ones. You know this from your lessons. They are tainted. Keep away from them."

"What is he doing here?" My boy whispers back at me after giving Agent Derek Morgan a sideways glance.

"He works with Rossi. Rossi we can trust. He's not like the others." I crouch down in front of Sam and I put my good hand to the side of his face and I run my thumb over his lips and he looks at me and he is smiling and I know he is thinking the same as I am thinking…and I know in the eyes of everyone here it would look like I am lusting after a child…

……But in reality he's not a child. But he is my offspring. One way or another it would be wrong. This is something we need to keep away from prying eyes. I look at him and blink and he blinks back and licks his lips and nods. He knows me well. He knows I want him. But it will have to wait – wait until we are alone again. Once more…so we can explore again.

And it is now…I am turning standing in one fluid movement that it happens.

It is with such power and force and with such fear in it that it knocks me down to my knees in the street. I put out both of my hands to stop the fall and my weakened wrist screams out in protest and I hear something snap and the horrible echo of **'Floyd'** being screamed in my brain.

Sam is at my side as my nose begins to bleed and Rossi is standing watching and Agent Derek Morgan is walking forward saying something.

"Hey man, are you alright?"

And I am wondering if I look fucking alright! So I look up at him. "Either you help me find Spencer or someone is going to kill him."

"And how do you know this?" the dark one is asking again and my boy's hand is tightening on my arm and I know he is wondering why I am talking to him and so I direct my words at Rossi.

"Just let me take you to the crime scene. Get your CSU guys in. Check it over."

Rossi is nodding and looking at Morgan who is shrugging again and making yet another call.

"I would like you two to come in the SUV with us- If that is not a problem. I don't think you are fit to drive."

I nod at him and I feel Sam relax again as I get up off the sidewalk.

And now we turn to walk towards the big black car and Sam is holding my hand and I am wiping away the blood from my nose and my left arm hurts….something has gone wrong again. My fingers which had feeling in them are suddenly numb again and I want to blame Spence, but a twisting knot has formed in the pit of my stomach. He would only call me like that as a last resort.

I don't want to be too late.

But then I will always have Sam.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20 Dogs

Chapter 20

Dogs

_One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the wilful slaughter of hope: - __Steven Deitz_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

I have no idea how long I have been standing here now. I want to sleep. I need to be able to get some strength back but they have just left me here. They haven't been back to talk to me. They haven't offered me water – let alone food.

I went through the stage of sweating and shaking.

My head is thumping and I feel that tight band around my brain telling me that I need to sleep but I can't. My heart is hurting too much. The photographs are still on the bars behind me. I took a quick look. Just a flash of a look to see if they were still there and the pictures of Spencer laying still and lifeless and the pictures of Jack playing and smiling….the contrast was too much. The two things I love…one gone…They say he is gone but they wont let me say goodbye to him. They wont tell me what has happened to his body….and Jack? What did that child ever do to hurt anyone? How can I protect him if they wont tell me what they want? Why did they do that to Spencer.

I know Reid was the target. I know that their job was initially to destroy my junior agent – and I wonder then why. What on earth did Reid know – what had he found out? If that was what the point of all of this was.

Trying to work out who they are because this feel horribly official to me.

I heard dogs. Growling and barking and I thought they were going to bring them down to me, but no….I am getting the cold treatment. I know what this is about and they wont win. If I am thinking what I think….I can't let them get the better of me.

God I hope the pictures of Jack are just a threat. I don't know what I would do if they hurt my boy and I know that they don't have to physically do something. Idle threats. Scare tactics to get me to pass on the information they want. But I have nothing. Not anything I can or will pass their way anyway. There really is nothing.

My arms hurt from being pulled up in this position. One at a time I am moving my legs to try to stop the cramps I can feel slowly creeping their way up from my ankles. It started in my feet. I can deal with this.

I can deal with this treatment, but I need to talk to someone.

I need to be able to do my job.

Where are they? And what are the dogs for? They were in this complex somewhere…they have other people here I expect. I have to look at the picture of Spencer again. I need to be sure. I need something. Some little bit of hope.

Damnit my legs!

Cramp…One and then the other. They didn't like that different movement. They didn't like being told to walk. The muscles in my back…between my shoulder-blades are throbbing. They will be next to seize up on me. But I need to see those pictures again. Even though I said I wouldn't. I have to. I have to see Reid. I have to have some hope.

The picture isn't very clear. I'm sure my vision is weaker now than when I was brought here….than when I looked at the pictures before, or is it just that I have tears in the backs of my eyes this time and my brain doesn't want to accept that they are there. That Reid is there – laying cold. Oh god the eyes. They are clouded over. The pure bright hazel eyes have gone. That eternal excitement on his face has been removed.

And the more I look at them and try to get the image to move. Try to get the fingers to twitch or the eyes to blink and I know logically they wont – these are cheap computer printouts of a Polaroid snap shot. Printed out to look bigger.

Maybe altered.

This is a trick.

Oh god – if Reid is still alive and I am getting this treatment…what are they doing to him?

The dogs.

Oh god no not the dogs…

What the hell do these people want?

I can feel my knees giving way under me now. I am hanging by my wrists and hot angry tears have escaped from my eyes and are running down my face and this just makes me more angry. I need to keep my fluids in. I can't afford to cry. I can't let this happen.

"What do you want?!"

I shout it, but it is not very loud. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels swollen. Eventually they will talk to me. They will…I know they will….they are trying to break me first.

Let them think they have. Get them to come to you….bring them here then ask.

I will ask my questions.

-o-o-o-

They travelled together. Floyd and Sam sat in the back. Neither strapped in and Rossi wasn't about to argue with them over it. Now wasn't the time for petty things like that.

Rossi was sitting shotgun and Morgan was driving. He was watching carefully the passengers in the back of the SUV. He was far from happy having them there. The child was as creepy as the adult. Morgan wondered if Floyd had ever been a child. He couldn't imagine it, but looking back there and seeing two pairs of dark eyes looking back at him – with the same 'fuck you' expressions on their faces he didn't want to think of Flanders being a parent either. The very idea that he could have fathered such a demonic offspring was beyond reason.

Floyd sat it virtual silence. This wasn't what he had wanted. He had wanted to cooperate with Rossi, not Morgan. He had no intention of talking to him, but now was finding he was having to give him directions on where to go. It wasn't putting him in a happy mood, and he could feel Sam's sideways glances. The boy was questioning his actions and he wasn't going to discuss it here. Closed in.

"Pull over." Floyd muttered. "We are close enough."

Morgan pulled the car over to the side of the road and Floyd was out of one door and Sam out of the other before he could turn off the engine.

Flanders had dried blood around his nose which he was picking at and rubbing away with his sleeve. Sam came to stand next to him. Floyd took the boy by the hand and moved towards Rossi.

"I can feel it." Floyd said softly. "I can feel it like – like…"

"A wave." Sam completed.

Floyd walked a short way down the road and crouched. He had left Sam behind who was watching and learning. Rossi walked over to Flanders and crouched down with him.

"Is there anything other than this 'wave'?"

"Blood." Now Floyd was touching the road gently. "Here there is blood."

Rossi looked at the tarmac and saw nothing. He shook his head slowly. "I really hope you are not wasting our time here Flanders."

Floyd turned his head to look at Rossi. "I can think of a whole lot better ways to spend my time than tasting the road." He turned his attention back to the road and ran his fingers of the tarmac. He then lifted them slowly and looked at them before showing the tips of his fingers to Rossi. There was blood.

"It could be from an injured animal." Rossi stood. "Blood on a country road like this means nothing."

"It is Spencer. Taste it!"

Rossi turned back to Floyd. "No – I'm not about to taste the left overs from a road kill. Give me more evidence something happened."

Floyd stood. "They cleared the scene. There is glass moved off the road. I'm sure the CSIs will be able to match it to Hotchner's SUV. And this blood. And well they won't be able to pick up the aura."

"Right – this aura you say you can feel. Exactly what is it you think happened?"

Morgan came over to join them now. Sam stood back and watched, not wanting to get too close to these other people.

"There was a meeting of vehicles. I know that I can feel it. I can feel the jolt as they are hit from behind and pushed forwards into another vehicle. I can feel Spencer's confusion but it turns to fear and then pain. Hotchner's is also confusion and then – shock – something happened to…." Floyd turned around and looked over at the place the blood was on the road. "Something happened to Spencer. Something bad….Hotchner thought he was dead. I can feel it. I can feel the fear and the aguish of it. Not of his own predicament, but of Spencer's. There was a gun shot." Floyd walked back to where Spencer's blood was in the road. "Hotchner thinks they shot him but I don't feel that….I feel blunt force trauma. Yet a gun was fired. Probably to scare." Floyd shook his head. "To confuse." He turned his attention back to where Hotch had been. "They drugged him I think. That's what it feels like to me. Like they drugged him."

"We need proof." Morgan was standing looking down at the stubbly grass at the side of the road. "There is glass here. I need you to stick around while the Crime Scene people have a look around." Morgan then pulled his phone off his belt again and called Garcia. He needed a trace on Hotch's SUV. It shouldn't be too hard to find. One way or another they were going to find out what had happened and he would quite like child services involved if this really was Sam's legal guardian. They would need proof…..though by appearances. Even the way they both stood. It was eerie.

-o-o-o-

"Persuade him."

That is what they said to me….but I don't know how – and I don't know why. I don't know why I am here. I don't know why Spencer is here. He's done something wrong – that is evident, but I don't know what it is. They've locked me in the cell with him and he is curled up on the floor facing down. Curled up tightly – protecting his body against something I cant see. I don't know if he has been beaten. I will need to get closer. He is in a puddle of wet on the floor. And I close my eyes and try to make this image go away. His undergarments are pulled down and I can see blood and bruising. He has been assaulted. I can see that. I know those signs well. They have used something on him. Not themselves. His Tshirt is pushed up his back and I can see now that I am closer the boot prints and scratches over his back. I can see marks where fingers have dug in too deeply into his skin.

There is a slow rise and fall of his shoulders letting me know he is alive. How much alive I don't know – but I've seen worse. I saw worse when I first met him. He survived that. I think.

He can survive this.

I kneel on the floor next to him and gently move out a hand and touch the back of his head.

"Spencer." I say it quietly. I don't want him to think I am one of them. My own injuries are bad enough. I don't think I would be able to move fast enough to protect myself from a flailing Spencer. He doesn't answer me so I talk a bit louder and stroke the back of his head and wind my fingers through his soft hair.

"Spencer….it's me. It's Ardal." But he stiffens under my touch. "It's ok Spencer. I'll look after you like I did before." It's a lie…I can't care for him. I don't know what this place is but I know what they want. They asked me the same questions over and over again and to my disgrace I answered some of them.

I stand up now and look down at Spencer. What was I meant to do? They would have killed me. They had no reason to keep some street whore alive. I'm nothing. I just knew some stuff. Stuff I shouldn't have known maybe – but I blabbed. I couldn't not. They offered me things. They gave me stuff. I'm not this – this whatever Spencer is. I'm not trained to resist them the way he is. I'm not him!

What did you expect?

I'm a junky rent boy.

My life is all about getting money to get my next fix so that it doesn't feel so crap when I'm being shagged for a few bucks so I can get the drugs to forget what I am. That is all I am. Not some secret agent. Not some FBI trained guy. I am nothing. I never will be anything. My family disowned me. Anything I could have had was taken from me because I swing the wrong way…because I am a fag. And my brother? He's not? It's funny – he marries a rich weirdo and they adopt a kid and tell everyone it's mine! That is a final insult really isn't it? Me have a kid….that's as likely as me growing a pair of tits…it's not going to happen!

I'm looking back down at Spencer again now. He hasn't moved.

"Spencer?" And this time I prod him with my foot. "I need to talk to you."

And this time he turns his head and looks up at me…and his face is swollen and bruised and his eyes are puffy and his lips are split and I just want to hold him close but I can't. I don't want this. I never wanted this. I just want to go home and – and – and get high. I kneel down next to Spencer again and I touch his hands which are held tightly behind his back. They feel cold and his fingers don't curl around mine and I wonder if he can feel them.

"Spencer… you need to tell them what they want to know." I say it softly to him. "They will stop all this pain if you just tell them what they want to know."

And he looks at me and I can see he has been weeping softly to himself and I want – no – I need to uncuff those wrists and help him, but I can't and it makes me so damned cross that he has done something stupid and wont tell these people what it is.

"Can you talk to me? Can you just tell me?"

And he blinks those swollen eyelids and puss crawls out of the corners of them.

"Please Spencer…for god's sake nothing is worth this. Whatever it is they have done to you. Nothing is worth it. Just tell them what they want to know."

And at last he talks to me.

-o-o-o-

"Floyd. I am waiting for Floyd."

And Ardal looks confused for a minute. "That is the name they want? They want you to give up Floyd? Christ Spencer! Just tell them! I'll do it. I'll tell him who it is they want to know. They will kill you."

But Ardal is confused. "No – no." I want to reach out and touch him but my arms are still held back and my face – my face is just one lump of pain. I can just about see – but my vision has a yellowish pink cloud over it. My eyes are damaged. I know they are. "Have they mentioned Hotchner to you? Is he here? I can't remember what happened."

"Don't worry Spence." He is pulling me around now so that I am laying on my side partially on his lap…leaning on his legs. It's not comfortable. My arms won't permit me to have comfort. I ask him again.

"Have they mentioned Hotchner to you?" And strokes the side of my sore face and says

"No – you are the only other prisoner I have seen. Spencer I can't take another beating like that."

But I don't know what to do. I can't do what he is asking. "I'm sorry Ardal. I didn't mean this to happen to you. We need to wait."

And Ardal is running his delicate fingers over me and talking softly to me. "You could just have me Spencer. Like it used to be. The two of us." And the words are wonderful but deceptive because it can never be like that and he knows it.

"I'll wait. I'm sorry. I wont be broken by these people."

And Ardal sudden stands up pushing me onto my side on the floor in the wet I had been laying in. My boxers are still down by my thighs and I want to ask Ardal to help me cover myself but he is ranting now and walking around the cell and so I roll over and pull my knees up and try to cover myself a bit. Not that he hasn't seen me naked before but somehow this is different.

"Just tell them who you've been sleeping with Spencer! Why is that so damned hard for you to do?"

I shake my head. He must know the reason.

"Because if I admit to something they will bring that person here too and I can't have that on my conscience. I won't do that." I can feel the skin cracking on my lips and the blood in my mouth again. I cough and I spit and I look up at Ardal who is talking to me.

"And I am ok to sacrifice for your high moral standards? They will kill me Spencer."

And I nod at him. "They will kill you anyway Ardal. And me. Both of us and they will enjoy it. But they won't get what they are asking for."

He looks so angry and hurt and sad. I want to take it all back again. I want to do something to make it better for him and I don't know what to do because I know they know about Floyd. If they know about Ardal they know about Floyd. That isn't what they want. They are trying to break me and they are going to use Ardal to do it.

To try to do it.

I sigh and I try to get to my feet. I want him to hold me. I want to feel arms around me but he is shaking his head.

"Can you help me with my boxers?"

I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to pull back some hope for him. He steps forward and grabs the waistband and pulls them up for me. He then slaps me hard across the face and so I take a step back. I understand why he did that and I didn't ever want to hurt him. I didn't want this to happen but it has. I can hear footsteps and I back up and stand against the wall.

Ardal looks at me pleadingly and I don't know what to say and so I whisper "Sorry."

Not a very adequate word under the circumstances.

"Ardal – please…come over here." he looked at me and walked slowly.

"I won't die for you Spencer – I'm sorry too."

I can see tears shining at the edges of his eyes but I think they are of anger not sadness. "I'm not asking you to. Please just stand behind me. Let me deal with them." Ardal shook his head and moved.

Now I have my body between them and me and I can hear the dogs and that fear is there again. I can smell the fear on me and I can feel Ardal's hand gripping my upper arm.

"What is your plan?" He is talking directly into my ear and I want to turn around and hold him and kiss him goodbye and I can't. I have to stand there and watch through the pinkish yellow haze as the cell door is opened and the dogs enter with their handlers.

They ask Ardal to step forwards and the response is that he holds me with both hands.

"Now before I let the dogs have you."

And suddenly Ardal is pulling me back off balance and throwing me face first to the floor.

I can hear the dogs.

I can feel Ardal lay down on my back and wrap his arms around me and I scream for him to get off me. He can't do this. He mustn't do this and I can feel blood running over me…but it's not mine…and I can hear Ardal scream for a short while and then stop and he is laying on my back still holding me but the movement is from the dogs ripping into him and I can see the arterial spray and I realise that I am screaming too and I don't know if the blood is all Ardal's or if any of it is mine as I cough and choke and the world goes grey and my cowardly body won't let me see it though to the end.

And the last thing I can remember is the sound of flesh being ripped and the smell of death.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21 The Same Old Thing

Chapter 21

The Same Old Thing

_To torture a man you have to know his pleasures: - __Stanislaw Jerzy Lec _

**A/N: Not sure why…but this is how it came out of my brain and into my fingers……it's sort of morphed. Please R&R. Pb XOX**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

It's one of those times where as a kid I have to take things into my own hands. Dad's not happy that this Morgan geezer is here and so I will remove him. As kids do.

I've been watching him for a little while and for a while he was watching me too and I know I have to do this with caution.

And so I am here keeping out of the way kicking the dust in the road and keeping my back to the guys. Crime Scene people have arrived and tape is being stuck up and little yellow triangles in the road. Just like they do on the television. They have been taking swabs of stuff and taking a shit load of photos and I have his mother of a stone in my hand….more of a small rock….and I can throw hard.

And with remarkable accuracy for a kid!

I need to get into position though. No point in wasting my chance.

"Oy you!" I shout out. He's done looking at the road and was looking bored and so he is turning to look at me. "You play sports?" And I see his face frown. "Do you have a ball I can kick around?" Stupid question but that's good. I'm a kid!

"No kid. I don't have a ball. We don't have time to play games." He starts to turn away again. That's good. He is standing side on to me now and I get my hand ready to throw. I give my dad a quick glance. He knows what I am going to do. He can feel it. He blinks at me and then turns back to what he was doing – bitching out the crime scene people – go dad go!

I toss the stone and shout out at the last minute. Too late. I make sure it is too late. "Ahoy Agent Morgan." But the stone has made contact with the side of his face right next to his eye. He shouts out and turns to me and again I glance over at dad who is ignoring it but the Morgan bloke is coming over towards me. I have made his face bleed and he looks bloody angry with me. I am going to have to defend myself and then dad will help out too….I hope..

I'm just a kid!

I don't know better.

"What the hell are you playing at?" And his dark face is near mine and I can smell him. I can see blood on the side of his face and he's not looking too happy.

So I tell him to "Fuck off." And that's when he does it. That was when he made a grab for my arm….but I'm too quick for him and my other hand has already made contact with his groin and I am squeezing and twisting and he is shouting out and grabbing for me again and that is when dad arrives.

"Let go of him." But he is talking to the Fed…not me cos he has his hand on my shoulder as I squeeze more and twist harder and this is something a kid can do to an adult and they scream.

Dad stands behind me now and he pulls me back and I let go and watch the big dark bloke go down to his knees and start to vomit into the road. Dad gives me a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and turns to Rossi who is demanding what happened.

"I defended myself. He went for me!" I am shouting and making a bigger fuss than I need to but it makes adults pissed off when I do this. "He has no right to touch me. He was going to hit me!"

There is blood in the vomit and I am glad I hurt him good. It doesn't look like he will be getting up and being part of the rescue mission now. He is coughing and gagging and making all sorts of strange noises and Rossi wants to know what happened….so I start to cry and say he went for me.

"I threw a stone and hit him by mistake…." Big shuddering breaths….. "And he came at me with his fists!" Squeezing out the tears now. "I did the only thing I could think of!" I turn now and bury my head in my father's clothing and sob uncontrollably. I can feel my father rest a hand on the back of my head and twist his fingers through my hair and my hormones begin to run riot again but when I press forwards he takes a step back and bends down to talk secrets in my ear.

"Not now." In whispered tones –" but you did a good job."

I keep my hands close on my dad and I listen to what he has to say.

-o-o-o-

"He can defend himself." I look at what Sam has done to Morgan and I feel pride in my heart. He did do a good job on him. I want him out of the way. I don't want his help. I want to talk this over with Rossi not him.

Rossi is talking to me now. "They have found Hotch's car." I nod at him. I thought they would.

"How far away?" I guide Sam slowly away from the injured Morgan who is on his knees now. Sam is wriggling and messing with me and I need him to pack it in. This isn't the time or place for games. I need to get Spence. My wrist hurts and my fingers are still numb and I want to shout at the lot of them to stop messing around and just do what they are meant to do. Sam has his arms tightly around my waist and is pressing hard against me and it – really – is – a – bad –time. I pull him off and pick him up.

"Just stop that will you!" I shout in his face and throw him hard away from me and I hear his small shout of shock and then I hear his body smack against a tree and his shouts stop.

"What the hell?" And now Rossi has a turn at shouting. I look and he is running towards where Sam is laying. He will be fine.

"He will be fine." I let him know in an irritated voice. "He bounces." And I start to walk towards Morgan who is still bent double and while he is there I take my frustration out on him. My knee meets his chin with a loud cracking sound and he falls to the road and finally stops him moaning sounds and when I turn back to see what Rossi I doing he is crouched down with my son who is bleeding and he is looking at me.

"What?!" And I am so annoyed by the whole situation that I want to just walk off and leave them and so I do. "Fuck you all then! I'll go get him on my own." And I leave the road and walk off through the trees.

This would be my home. If I could this would be my eternal resting place. The forest. It is where I am from…and where I will eventually go back to and right now it is where I will go and think. Sam will find me if he needs to but I think he is going to try to bond with Rossi. Great let him. I tried with that man… I tried hard.

I can hear him calling me and I keep walking. Really I am listening out for Sam, but he doesn't call me and really I would have been disappointed in him if he had.

What I need to do is contact Spence. I'm rubbing at my arm where the brace is meant to keep it safe. "Fucking falling apart." I am muttering to myself – but at least my foot is repaired but yet I still don't fancy running too fast or too far just yet. I need to find somewhere secure where I can hunker down and put my feelers out. I don't like cutting myself off from my surroundings when I am this exposed. That was the mistake Sam made. He won't be doing that again in a hurry…and now I am thinking of my boy and in my heart is a very special place for him. More so than Rosa, but I wonder if it will ever be more than Spence. That Spencer Reid captured my soul a long time ago. Long before he was a Fed. Long before all this shit. Right way back he has been there part of my and I have yearned for him and wanted him and he has rejected me time after FUCKING time.

Suddenly I feel a deep down anger. All this time…all this teaching….first Spence and then Rosa and now Sam. The other's they say were like trials. To see how I did…Firstly something disposable and then something precious yet replaceable…and finally Sam. The end goal – except I've not finished…I've not disposed of Spencer…cos he is more to me than some test to see how I do – how far I will go…how much I will take and give ….

……….I am walking down and incline and at the bottom there is deep dark undergrowth. This is where I think I will crawl and curl up and contact Spencer from.

It smells good. I can smell the earth and if I think hard and long enough I can hear the river and sense that ancient woman sitting with me.

'**SPENCE! – Where the fuck are you?"**

No half ways…a good old shout out.

And he would have heard that. So I will stay here and I will wait.

-o-o-o-

They took the dogs away.

I can feel Ardal on my back still – very still. I try to think and concentrate and work out if that movement is my breaths or his. I want it to be him. I cant bare the thought of what he just did.

There is silence. All I can hear is my heart thumping in my chest and my stupid panicked breathing.

And the dripping. The steady drip drip of blood.

If I open my eyes I can see it. I am laying in Ardal's blood. I can feel it warm on the side of my face. I can feel it over my back and in my hair and there is that smell. That god-awful stench of a fresh kill. I want to move. I need to get out from under here but I can't.

Fear has me trapped. All the time I can't see it then it might not be him. It's some vile trick to break me and I think they will win. If Ardal is the weight on my back then I want to die. I can see his arm. Just part of it and really it is enough to tell me all I need to know but I will deny that. Just a glimpse of part of a blood covered arm isn't enough. It could be anyone.

My mind is playing tricks on me. So I am closing my eyes tightly and hopefully in the morning it will be gone. They will have removed him. I try to move my fingers. I want to hold onto him. I need to show him that I am sorry. I didn't want this to happen to him. He was protecting me again – the same as he did before.

I sigh and with the sigh I start to cry.

And I can't stop.

And I feel pathetic and small and stupid and I have no right to feel sorry for myself but I don't know what else to do. I can't give them what they want and I don't know why they want to know who I have been sleeping with…or why they asked me my security code. I don't understand any of this.

I am meant to be a genius. So come on now genius – work it out. What are they doing this for? Why set the dogs on us. On Ardal.

They just meant to scare me. If that was the plan then they did good! I am scared. I am laying in a puddle of piss to prove I am scared. Urine and blood. Oh god I need to get out of here. But I can't move. I daren't move.

And suddenly there is the sound of foot steps again and I can hear locks opening and my cell door swing open and they are dragging Ardal off my back.

"Please – please don't." My voice is very quiet I don't know if they heard me, but they ignore me either way and I feel the weight being dragged off my back. I try again to hold on with my fingers but I can't. They work in silence and I can hear the body being dragged across the floor and it makes me want to scream because I know that should have been me…except they wouldn't have done that to me. I have something they want. Ardal had nothing.

I can feel the tears tracking down my face and I hope they think they are tears of anger and not of the pity I am feeling for myself…and I try to stop feeling like this but I just want to be left alone to curl up and die. I need this all to stop and I don't know how to make them stop.

"What do you want from me?" I whisper to them.

Someone puts a hand on my shoulder and rolls me over onto my back in the blood and mess on the floor.

"I want the names of all your sex partners." The voice is hard and harsh and I don't understand why they need to know such a thing.

"You already know." Is my answer.

"Hotchner."

And it wasn't a question and I just stare at them and hope that isn't an answer. One of them pulls me to my feet and a knife is produced. I sigh and close my eyes and I bite down on my bottom lip and I await the pain, but they use the knife to cut off my Tshirt and it is a bit of a relief that it has gone.

One of them holds me upright and another talks to me.

"Do you have sex with Hotchner?"

And the question just makes me angry and I am trying not to make this worse than it can be and so I shake my head. This has the effect of one of them enclosing a hand around my neck and pushing me backwards. My feet slip and slid in Ardal's blood and I get a fresh waft of his death and I open my mouth to scream but the hand is too tight on my throat and nothing happens. I want to pull the hands away but I think now even if my arms weren't held so tightly behind my back that I wouldn't be able to stop this new onslaught.

He holds me against the wall now. My feet are on the floor and the grip is released slightly. I am horribly exposed and I try to think what Gideon would do in this situation but of course Gideon would never have been in this situation in the first place.

"Who is Flanders?" The voice is so close to my face that I can smell his breath and it makes me screw my eyes up and try to think of anything but Floyd. I can't tell them about him. If they don't kill me for it then he will – and – I need Floyd.

I am asked again. "Who is Flanders? How do you know him?" And I just stare at him. I'm not going to answer.

The hand tightens around my neck again and I am lifted off the floor. It feels like he is going to break my neck as he turns with me and pulls me away from the wall and now I am flying………..

………………….I hit the bars with my right side and my head cracks against them and my legs give way under me as I slide to the floor again and before I can even get my breath back again he is there and I am being pulled to my feet and dragged out of the cell.

I try to walk. I do my best – but they are much to fast for me and I end up being dragged. One man under each arm but my feet stop trying to get a grip on the floor and I try to relax into them and hope that what they have planned won't hurt too much.

For too long.

I am dragged down a few steps and across a floor to the back of the room where there is a pile of packing crates. Someone climbs on the top of them and I can see they are wobbly only about three foot off the ground but high enough.

"Get up there." I am told and I frown because I don't think I can with no hands to support me but they half drag me up there anyway. It's not too high….only it will hurt if I fall onto the stone floor below.

Once balanced they push my head down and suddenly I realise what they are meaning to do. A collar is put around my neck and the chain attached to a ring in the ceiling.

"Please don't." I say to them.

And again I sound miserable and pathetic. Now they pull me so I am upright and the cuffs holding my arms behind my back and linked to a bar running along the wall. If I fall – when I fall…they will ensure I do eventually my shoulders will be ripped out of their sockets and I will choke slowly on the wide collar around my neck.

"Please – don't do this."

But they ignore me. I am more fun to play games with. I'm not going to tell them who Flanders is. My use to them suddenly ended.

They jump down from the boxes and leave me there. I have to keep still now. The ones holding the boxes stable have let go and so I close my eyes and try to remember when I was a kid and the fun things I did and it forces big wet tears out of my eyes – only this time it is fear. I admit it.

As they back away and they smile at me and say "See you later Dr Reid." Someone comes in with the dogs and they let them go….and at the same time something screams in my head so loudly that I think I am going to pass out and my nose starts to bleed.

'**SPENCE! Where the fuck are you?'**

* * *


	22. Chapter 22 Revenge

Chapter 22

Revenge

_You know, it feels intoxicating__  
__To be intimidating__  
__It's invigorating__  
__To see you shaking_

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

I don't know how long it has been. I know now that I can't move.

My muscles have locked. I am stuck. I want to turn and look at Reid. I want to see him again.

I know Jack is safe. I know that they wouldn't do anything to a child, but Reid was an adult. Fair game for people like this. I don't know what they want with me. They haven't asked questions and my head is spinning and my mouth is swollen due to lack of fluids. I'm not the important one here.

Spencer.

He is who they want and for that reason he can't be dead. The idea is absurd.

But I head dogs and I heard screaming and it was screaming like from the pits of hell and really I don't know – I don't know if it was Reid or not. I've never heard such fear from a one noted scream. I've never heard Reid scream like that. But it doesn't mean he wouldn't…or can't but if that was him – then something bad happened and I am still here doing nothing and I still haven't been able to do what I need to do because however long it has been that I have been here they have not been back for me.

They will do. They will come back. I know that much. When all else has failed. When they can't get what they want from Reid then they will be back. I just don't know what they will be back for.

I can't feel my arms…they have been held in the same position for too long now – but my wrist have been bleeding. I can see the ruby red blood running down my arms. Maybe it is good I can't feel anything.

Swallow. I need to, but my throat is swollen and I'm unable to. A small amount of fluid in my mouth will be quickly absorbed by the dry it is sitting in.

At last I can hear something. Movement. Something other than the echoes of screams or dogs howling and barking. It is a relief – even if they don't come to me – even if all I hear is footsteps, that is fine…I know I'm not alone. The thought that they would just leave me here – wherever this place is.

They are getting closer and it sounds as though they are unlocking the door set into the bars behind me. I want to turn to look at them – to see who they are but my muscles are too tight to let me move and so to avoid looking weak I stand still. I don't want them to see a weakness in me. They will use it against me.

And now they start to talk to me and at first the words make no sense.

"Does he talk in his sleep?"

But I don't know who they are talking about.

"We know he does."

Do they mean Reid? They are not talking in past tense. He is still alive.

"How would I know?" My voice is dry and rough and doesn't sound much like me.

"You fuck him. He told us you do." And my mind is spinning. Why would he say such a thing? He wouldn't say that. I know he wouldn't. I try to shake my head rather than talk but my neck is stiff and the pain is intense. I don't want to let them know how much pain I am in.

"No – no I don't." And now I am hoping that Reid didn't say he did to save him self because I am saying I don't. Which is the truth and it makes my heart ache thinking of it but I know he's not dead. "I need to see Reid." I don't know if that was the right thing to say, but it is truth. I need to see him.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I can feel them undoing the restraints around my arms.

Very slowly I move my arms down. I bite hard on my bottom lip. It's excruciating but again I refuse to give them the pleasure of knowing the pain I am in here. I pull my elbows in to my side and place my hands on my abdomen. I hold my arms with my hands but I stand still and I close my eyes. I don't know what they have ready for me. I don't know what to expect and I have to be ready for everything.

A hand touches my shoulder and pulls me around to face. I can taste blood in my mouth where I am biting down onto my lip. I talk again. "I need to see Reid."

"He's no longer your problem Agent Hotchner. Just be thankful that you're not his bed partner."

I am confused by this. I don't know what it has to do with anyone who my agent beds. Unless he has been sleeping with the enemy and at this thought my stomach clenches. Flanders.

"He is my agent. You need to take me to him. Whatever it is you think he has done – I am still his senior." Something is being pressed into me and I look down slowly to see a small pile of clothes.

"Shut up and get dressed. You are not responsible for what Dr Reid has done unless he fucks on your order."

I take the clothes. Sweat pants and a sweatshirt. "He will listen to me. Let me talk to him."

They are shaking heads though and pushing at the clothing again. "Get dressed. I will permit you to see him before you leave, but you won't be able to talk to him."

Slowly and painfully I pull the sweatpants over my feet and up my legs. I slide my arms into the sweatshirt and then pull it down over my head. They don't offer me anything for my feet.

"I need water." My voice is still dry and rough but they ignore my words and one of them holding my arm guides me from the cell I have been held in. I see someone is removing the pictures from the bars and throwing them away. It hurts to see them throwing away pictures of people I love but this I feel is good. They have finished with their threats.

The corridor I am lead slowly down – they are aware that walking is hurting me. They know that my muscles are crunching into cramps and spasms and they are making allowances for that. I watch them open the door at the end and I am then lead through it.

I am in another corridor but this one has sound. Not the deathly silence of the place I have been in. This one I can hear dogs barking. I listen out for shouts of people but I don't hear anything. I can smell it though. An awful stink which I am unable to put my finger on. I can see blood smeared on the floor and I realise that I can smell death. The cloying heavy smell of too much blood and my stomach heaves in protest and I put my hand to my face to try to block out some of the smell. There is also a very strong smell of dogs…and urine…fear and I wonder if this is where they have Reid and if it is what they have done to him and how much of this blood is his.

They pulled me around to face the bars of a large cell. At first I couldn't make out exactly what it was I was looking at – my subconscious didn't want to accept what it was I was looking at.

Reid was standing with a – a wide collar around his neck. It lead up to via a chain to a ring on the ceiling of the cell. He had his hands behind his back but I wasn't able to see how they were restrained. He was standing on a few unstable looking crates. His head was down. His face covered with matted blood filled hair. His body was covered in blood. Dried and sticky.

Flies. I could hear flies and I could see them buzzing hungrily around Reid. It was obvious he had been beaten and it was obvious that if he slipped he would either break his neck or hang and slowly choke. A ring of dogs surrounded him. It was these animals which were barking. They wanted him. If he slipped he was dead. No matter what – those dogs would tear him apart. Only training was keeping them from knocking him from where he was and tearing into his pale flesh.

"Let me take his place." But they were pulling me away from the bars now. They didn't want me to call out. "Let me – let me talk to him!" They were removing me – dragging me away and I didn't have the strength in me to fight them. "Why are you doing this to him? Let me take his place. I have more information."

They were pushing me back through the door I had originally come.

"But you don't talk – Dr Reid is a traitor." And they are pulling and pushing me along. "He sleeps with the enemy."

I feel the pricking burning feeling in my arm before I can react to it. I know what it is. I can feel my knees giving way under me and I can see the light dimming as the drug takes effect. I want to be here with Spencer. I want to help him, but I can feel the floor of the corridor on the side of my face and I know that it's too late now.

I can still see but my focus had gone.

…………I try to talk to them………

…..I should be the one they are talking to……..

Everything is going grey and the voices are drifting away now and I can't…………I can't remember……….

Where am I?

-o-o-o-

I can smell the dogs.

Keeping my eyes shut and trying to ignore it but I heard Floyd.

I need to tell him to keep away.

Or at least warn him.

'_Stay away.'_

I call back with my mind but I don't know if he heard me. It's not like talking on the telephone. You don't know if the message gets through or not.

'_Babes.'_

I get a reply. I know then that he heard me.

'_Stay away Floyd. I am just the bait.' _

And the boxes wobble a bit. My stomach clenches and I squeeze my eyes tighter. If this is it I don't want to see it happen. So I look at my toes and see them gripping the wood of the crates

'_Keep talking to me babes. I'll come and get you.'_

But I don't want him to. I can't have that on my conscience. But this wouldn't bother Floyd. He could deal with this. They couldn't hold him as they are holding me. I pull at the thing holding me to the wall and it is a mistake. The boxes wobble horribly and the dogs make noises to let me know they are waiting for me to make the mistake I eventually will make.

I can't stand here forever. I will slip up. I will move without thinking and the crates will slide away…and all I will be able to do is hang. I can't work out now what has happened to my hands. I've been trying to figure it out – what will happen first….will I break my neck or rip my arms out of the sockets? I'm not sure. I thought I was earlier, but now I'm not as certain. I hope my neck breaks.

So here I am balanced and wondering. I could just step off. That would do the job and everyone will be safe. I can't tell them things if I am not here. I don't know what they want.

They asked for my security code….this is confusing. It doesn't fit in with the other things they want.

'_Talk to me.'_

I ignore the voice. I don't want him to find me. I don't want him here. I don't want these people to get what they want.

'_I need you to talk to me Spence. I need to find you.'_

It's a lovely feeling having his voice in my head. It makes me feel safe.

Usually.

Today….

This time it's not security….well not mine. This time it's about control. I can control this situation by ignoring the voice. Keeping Floyd safe.

'_Babes.'_

And I want to cry. I want to hold him and bury my head into his shoulder and feel his arms around me and feel safe.

'_I can look after my self Spence. Talk to me!'_

I bite on my bottom lip and open my eyes a crack. The dogs are watching me. I don't know how much give there is in the chain I can hear clanking above me. I don't know how far I will fall. I don't know if the dogs will attack or wait.

'_I'm sorry Floyd.'_

I call back to him. I don't want him here. I don't want him to find me. I want to be the protector. I want to do this.

'_**Spence no!**__'_

and it is such a force that I feel my feet sliding and I don't stop them.

I close my eyes and I feel them losing grip and I feel the collar digging into my neck and I hear the crash of the boxes somewhere, but not close by. It's a long way off and I am sure I can hear Floyd screaming at me, but I'm not sure now.

My arms are wrenched up and I hear the bones pop and I hear my wrists crack and I open my mouth because my mind wants me to scream but I can't. The thing is around my neck and it's squeezing tighter and tighter and the dogs are watching me and my feet kick out looking for something to stand on but there isn't anything and all I can feel is my feet brushing against each other and someone shouting something at me….

………..somewhere…….my name being shouted at me……but I can't tell if it is Floyd or someone else because the sound is so distorted and now it's fading along with the pain………..

………..no more pain……….at last nothing……….

'**BABES!'**

And that was Floyd…….and I want to feel him and touch him but he's not here and all I can do is send him a faint message back.

'_Keep away.'_

…………………….but it is so faint that I don't think he can hear it.

And I guess that's it.

The end.

…………………..but I am crying……………so maybe it's just the beginning.

-o-o-o-

Fuck no no no

What in the name of the gods of Pluto is he doing?

'**SPENCE!'**

and I am on my feet now pushing my way through the undergrowth trying to get free of the plant life grabbing hold of me. I have to get to him.

Something has shifted in side. Something inside of me has jolted.

Funny little shock waves are passing through me and making me feel sick and I'm not sure what they mean.

"Get the fuck off me!" and I am shouting at the brambles and they rip across my skin in answer as I pull away.

I try to call him again…..but there is nothing there and so I stop and I close my eyes and I try something else.

'_Hotchner.'_

……………..I wait. I stand. I am wasting fucking time here but I still stand and I wait – but there is nothing….static only. Something is wrong with both of them. Two men down.

Quickly I am wiping sweat out of my eyes and looking around. I will need to run and no – I'm not talking running as you do when the ice cream van is there waiting…I am talking running like there are demons biting your arse….cos they may as well be.

'Spence?'

I try again but all I get back in a horrific pain in my arms and the feeling that I cant breathe.

"You bastards!" I shout out but I know they can't hear me and I know someone is inflicting this pain on Spence and I need to get to him.

He warned me away.

………………….Spencer told me to stay back…to keep away….this – doing what he has just done he has done to try to protect me – I don't need looking after – I am meant to be protecting him! What is he playing at? Why has he done this…he knows I will come to him anyway. He should know I wouldn't leave him……..

……………Hotchner – where the hell is he? I thought they were together – they should be….so where………..??

I can feel something else…..someone else….Ardal Trent?

Again I am wiping sweat off my face. My left hand hurts. I should be getting that looked at.

I sigh and move forwards…..they have killed Ardal….they have – shaking my head trying to work it all out – they have…..I feel they have drugged Hotchner….he is on the move but his mind is shut….and Spencer? They are killing him as I stand here!

Run Forest run….I am thinking as I speed up and the ground can't be felt under my feet anymore and the undergrowth doesn't stand a chance at grabbing at me.

As I burst out of the tree line and into the road it hits me.

I feel it hard against my side and I feel I am flying through the air and everything is spinning. It doesn't hurt. I am crashing to the tarmac and rolling and trying to get up but maybe I have broken something and maybe this is what happens when you don't think straight…when you are in a blind panic. I am trying to move and get to my feet again and something is touching my back…the back of my neck.

"Well well well….look who we've found." And I hear the gun cocking. "It's the pervert's little boyfriend."

My mind shifts…I don't like people talking about Spence like that. That's my job.

…….getting my brains spread over the tarmac is not my plan. I pull my knees up so I am kneeling and I let them keep the weapon on my neck. Neck shots hurt like crap…but not as bad as head…..

Slowly I turn my head so I can see who I am looking at. Three of them – each pointing a sidearm at me and so very slowly I stand, and I can feel the back of my foot crack and I want to swear, but I stay calm.

I can smell Hotchner. He is in the back of the van which I ran into.

"I'm OK." I say and I smile….only I think it comes out as a grimace and they don't return the smile.

………..It's over really quickly. Only three of them tis not a problem for me in the slightest.

Two of the side arms go off, but they are not pointing at me. They are in a panic. They are firing wildly and they hit the trees and the road…and the blood from the first man is from the throat and the other two are screaming at me to stand still or they will kill me…….

….so I laugh at them and I tell them that they need a bit more than a bullet if they think they can control me.

"Stand still!" the last man is screaming and backing away from me as I throw the second body to the road and the guns clatter to the tarmac and I walk towards him.

"You killed Ardal. You have tortured and killed Spencer. You have beaten and drugged Hotchner and you think I am going to let you go? You think I'm not going to take you here in the middle of the road and rip into you and show you what it really is like to be fucked over?"

And he throws his gun to the ground and he turns around to run….but I am on his back and I am pulling at his clothing and loving the sound of his terror and the begging as I keep my promise.

This one I let live….

This one I give a promise….

"I am going to do what I did to you to everything you have ever cared for. I am going to destroy everything and everyone you have ever loved…..Don't forget." And I turn around and go to find Hotchner.

* * *


	23. Chapter 23 Proxy

Chapter 23

Proxy 

_Floyd Flanders once said: - He is mine and I don't share._

**A/N: WARNING weird and twisted and noncon slash.**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Ah – fan-bloody-tabulous

Where the hell did dad go?

This Rossi bloke is giving me funny looks and if they think I'm standing around when all the fun is going on someplace else then think again.

I'm a kid arsehole! He ran off into the forest and I have every intention of following him – Once Rossi had let go of my arm that is.

"Let the fuck go!" I shout at him but he is holding on tight to me and I don't want to have to smack him around to make him let go. Dad seems to trust this one. "I gotta go find dad!" I shout that too though it's not really necessary 'cos he's standing right next to me.

There is muttering going on about crushing tearing damage and Morgan's balls….but I ignore it. Someone is taking him to the hospital…but I'm a kid and there's not much that they can do…

Oh…not only am I a kid, but I'm the one whose been missing and they've found me…what they gonna do with me?

I point my soul in the direction of Rossi and look up into his eyes. "I gotta find my dad." And I use my pathetic girls voice on him and it makes him look back at me.

"I think it wiser if you stay with me for now." He is wanting me to get into the car and so with a last look into the forest I follow him.

A sigh. A big long sigh. "We are going to look for him aren't we?" Again I use my pathetic voice.

"Yes – yes we are going to look for him. He is looking for Reid and we need to find Reid and Hotchner too, so looking for your dad is a good idea."

I smile at Rossi. I can see why dad likes him. For a start he doesn't stink of hand jobs and sex. He smells of blood and hunting. That for a kid is a good smell. A bit like candy floss.

-o-o-o-

I don't have time to see what they have done to Hotchner now. I just need to go back the way they came and get Spence.

I've tired calling out to him again but got nothing back. Just a complete nothing.

It will be alright. I can heal him.. I can pull him back again. I just need to be quick. There is a need to rush here and a greater need to beware. I think I've broken my arm. The one with the brace on it. It's not working and the fingers are going blue. This is just so much shit…all of it is shit.

I've dragged Hotchner into the passenger seat of the van….and I am hoping he will wake up enough to be of some assistance. I'm not a god…I can't do this alone. My mind is all over the place and I am trying to settle it and keep it thinking of what it should but when I try to listen in I can hear something dreadful and the sounds make my stomach clench in an unfamiliar way, but a way which is getting more and more noticeable where Spencer is involved.

I light up and lean my head back and take a deep drag. I know this should settle my mind. Hotchner is moving slightly and will be awake soon. I will use him as cannon fodder if I cant sort my arm out. At least the smokes take away some of the uncomfortableness of what I really do think is a broken arm. It was the one which hit the front of the van.

I stuff the smoke into the corner of my mouth and carefully remove the brace from my hand and arm. I can see the bone sticking through the skin. As I said…really it doesn't hurt. Not like maybe it should.

Why can I hear flies?

I run my fingers over the shard of bone. I need Hotch to help me out here.

"Wake up!" I shout at him…I know the rise in volume will make no difference at all. Somehow I have to get the bone back in line again and Hotchner isn't going to be waking up soon.

I swat flies away….but there aren't any. It's in my mind. I can hear them. They are on Spencer.

By sliding my hand between my knees I am able to grip it and with a good deal of concentration and pulling….

….. "Shit!"

It hurts….even with it numbed by the chemicals in my smoke. It hurts but it is going back. They are going to give me some words to ponder on at the hospital. Like it was my fault I was hit but this thing.

Now I can put the brace back on again and hopefully hold everything in place.

And I am waving my good hand in front of my face again swatting away imaginary flies.

I drive with care. I can't afford to smash the van up…I need it I need to get to Spencer. Quickly – and I have no idea how far away he is from me, but now I realised that my foot wasn't reacting the way I should and I only had one hand I can use.

This was going to be slow….but I can't carry Hotchner and yet I need him with me…and I can't wake him. This really is so much shit…

-o-o-o-

Oh god….

The pain.

Shooting pains all over my body.

I can tell I am laying on the floor. Someone must have cut me down. I am laying on my side and my arms aren't behind me anymore. One hand is bent backwards and tucked under my chin and the other…the one furthest from the floor is resting across and down over me.

The dogs are still here. I can hear them and I can smell blood. I'm not sure if it's mine or not. Carefully I try to open my eyes and see where I am. As I do I try to get my fingers to move but I remember the cracking sound and I think maybe I have broken my wrists. I want to touch my neck with my fingertips. Just feel and make sure that collar is gone, but my fingers are being stubborn and they don't want to pass on information like that. I try to move my toes but they are not doing what I ask either and now I am worried. Did I do something to my neck.

I wanted to die.

I really didn't care if I was dead – it would have been a blessed relief, but if I am alive and I feel alive then I don't want a broken neck.

Thinking logically it couldn't be. I can feel pain in my hands. No…my arms….my shoulders….there is immense pain but I can't move my arms to see what happened. I think they dislocated. I don't know if they still are.

Those dogs.

I can smell them.

I can smell their foul breath and the dampness and there is another smell. Blood. That smell of a kill and I can feel the prickle of tears behind my eyes as I remember Ardal and the way once again he protected me.

Why do people feel the need to do this to me? Am I that pathetic.

'_Floyd'_

I call out.

But nothing comes back and I wonder if I am too weak…I wonder if I am dead. I wonder if this is some sort of hell.

Again I try to open my eyes but my face feels wrong. It's swollen. My mouth is open and I try to lick my lips but I can't and now I am crying again and I don't know why but if I am dead then surely I wouldn't be able to give myself the pleasure of these tears.

I can feel them running down the side of my face and they are hot but they still cool that tiny strip of skin they run down.

And they run slowly and then I wonder if they are tears or something else. I try to look at my surroundings…everything is red. A cloud of reddish pink over everything. I have damaged my eyes. The force of the hanging can do that. It can make they eye's bleed and so now I am wondering if it is blood I have running down my face or if it is puss or thick salty tears. I can't tell.

'_Spence?'_

and I can feel him. Not physically….but inside me all the same…flowing through me and keeping me safe. Another one. Another who feels he has to protect me.

I can feel his hands on me.

I know….

I know he isn't here….I know it is just a feeling inside my mind…but it is wonderful. I can forget about the dogs and my hands…and I can forget about not being able to move. I can feel him.

I can feel him holding me tightly to him and curling up behind me.

'_It's going to be alright.'_ He says to me_. 'Everything is going to be alright. I am coming to get you. Relax. Let me do this.'_

And though I'm not sure what it is exactly he is doing….I sort of know….It's like when I hurt myself and Floyd took the damage. Like when I was with Ardal and he knew what I was doing. It is like that. I can feel his hand on my stomach pressing gently.

I can feel his leg curl over mine and pull me into position. I'm not sure if I am moving. I can't tell – and I don't really care. He is going to love me by proxy and I wonder who he is doing this to. I wonder who Floyd is with.

'_It doesn't matter.'_

He knows what I am thinking and he guides my damaged arms gently downwards.

'_Pleasure yourself.'_

And it's wrong. I know I shouldn't…but my hands are numb and it doesn't feel like me.

I can feel him again behind me…pulling me closer and I can now hear his voice in my ear.

'_Good boy…be dirty for me….you know I love it when you show me what scum you are.'_

So I push back against Floyd who isn't actually there and I do what he asks me to do because this might be it. This might be my death…and if it is I need to die knowing that the person I love is with me.

The dogs have started to growl, and I am sweating…I try again to lick my lips and still I can't.

-o-o-o-

I pull the van over and look at Hotchner. He's still not awake and so this could be my chance.

"Hotchner." I say to him….I don't want to do this if he is awake…too much effort and the condition I am in right now he would probably just swat me away.

I pull the van over and get out carefully.

'_Spence.'_

I need him and I need him so badly that I am going to have to take Hotchner and pass it on.

I move quickly to the other side of the van and pull open the door. He is making small noises…so I know he is alive. This is good…I don't mind…the next best thing from cold is only slightly with it.

I want – I need Spence. I need to taste him and feel his bony body against mine. I need to bit into him and taste his blood. I need to feel his pulse under my fingers…his life force pumping away for me. Just for me.

For now I will imagine it.

I ask him to pleasure himself. I need him to touch….I can feel it. His touching him I can feel it touching me.

With Hotchner I can afford to be rough so I push him over onto his side and pull down his clothing then manoeuvre him onto his front. I talk to Spence. Stay with me babes….I need you to feel this….

I can close my eyes and this is no long Hotchner I am fucking. It is Spence – and this isn't a cheap fuck…this is deep love. This is a love I only feel for my offspring.

It will never die.

There is nothing Spence can do to make me change my mind. I close my eyes and swallow and push myself hard into Hotchner's tight arse and imagine it is Spence and I bite the back of his neck and he makes small noises and I can feel Spence holding me and touching me and ever part of my body is tingling and it feels as though electricity is being passed through me.

This is complete.

I don't know how else to describe it. There is not other feeling like this. Love making by proxy isn't something I would normally do, but there was nothing else I could do.

-o-o-o-

I finally tip my head back and my mouth is watering and my eyes are closed and I know he's not here. I know Floyd can't be here but I can feel him and as I reach my peak and I cant hold back any more and as I feel my self jerk and empty onto my stomach I start shaking and I can't stop and I open my mouth and let out a howl of ecstasy.

And I know everything will be alright. And the sounds of the dogs pacing back and forth don't bother me now cos nothing could ever take away from me what just happened.

-o-o-o-

I felt him.

I held him and I felt him give himself totally to me…and I know that he could die now….and it would be alright…I would be able to pull him back from anything now.

I kiss Hotchner on the back of the neck but in my mind it is still Spence and now I have such a need to go and find him that nothing else will ever matter again. I will kill anything which gets in my way. Broken arm and fucked up foot? That doesn't matter. I have what I just had and that will give me the willpower and strength I need to get Spence out of that place and keep him with me.

As mine…

Forever.

Sam?

He will understand.

I need Dr Reid.

* * *


	24. Chapter 24 Lure

Chapter 24

Lure

_Tin Het Once Said: - something profound…but I can't recall what it was now._

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

Again time has passed and I don't know how much.

Floyd seems to have gone again and my mind is too tired to call out to him and too exhausted to listen. The dogs are sniffing around me. I can feel wet noses touching my bare skin and really I know it's just a matter of time.

I have been drooling. I think. Maybe it's not drool. I can't taste anything. Maybe it's blood? I can feel it trickling out of the corner of my mouth. I am hoping it's not blood. I don't want the dogs to smell it but I can't close my mouth and my tongue is swollen and my eyes – well they have stopped doing whatever it was they were doing. My eyelids are glued shut again only this time it is my own body doing the gluing.

Ardal – I need to know if that was him who was ripped apart by the dogs.

I'm sorry.

I didn't ever mean it to come to this.

How long has it been now? How long have I been laying here. Parts of me seem to be drying out where other parts are getting wetter. I keep trying to move my fingers and yes I can. I can feel the collar still around my neck. I hoped they had taken it off. They removed the cuffs from my wrists and I don't know why, but yes finally I can feel with the tips of my fingers and I can feel that wide leather strap still on me.

Voices….I can hear voices but my brain won't allow me to focus and work out what they are saying….or even if they are talking to me. I can still feel the dogs pacing around me though. Occasionally they touch me. Nose or their tongue or I feel them brush over my exposed skin and I lay here and I am waiting for them to attack – but it feels like they are guarding.

The voices again and a hand on my shoulder and the pain is so fierce that I think for a while that my brain will turn off and not force me to feel this amount of pain.

"Get up!"

And that I heard. They are asking me to get up and I can't….I can't move.

The hand on my shoulder digs in and pushes and I am rolled over onto my back.

"Get up!" But all I can do is lay there in the darkness and try to move my fingers and wriggle my toes. I can feel the breath of someone on me and the hand is on my neck and feeling around the collar. "Get up before I drag you." So again I try to move my arms or my legs or even open my eyes but I can't. I just lay there doing nothing but screaming at them from inside that I can't.

There is more than one person here. I know this because someone is pulling on me and lifting my upper body off the floor and fingers are sliding around the back of the collar and they are pulling me to my feet.

Please – just let me lay down. I can't stand up. My legs won't support me.

"You want to end up like your whore?" It's shouted in my ear and it echoes around in a mind which has been emptied of everything except the pain.

"Walk!" they shout at me as they let go and I start to fold up again and go back to the floor. The hand holding the collar keeps me on my feet but it's cutting off my air supply. I put my hands up to try to stop it. To try to get some air into me but they hold my hands down and tell me to stand up and stop acting like the fag I am. They tell me:

"Flanders is on his way." And this is the thing which pulls me back again from where my mind hand been hiding. He can't come here. I don't want him here. He has to keep away. Again I try to open my eyes and I'm not sure if I manage or not but I still can't see anything so I will assume I failed. The thought that I can't see…that I will be in darkness forever is too frightening. I can't deal with that.

'_Floyd – stay away. Keep away. They will destroy you.'_

"Move yourself fag."

But I can't put one foot in front of the other and so they let go of me and allow me to crash to the floor again.

Stupidly I put my hands out to stop myself and I hear the crack and I feel the bones grinding against each other and I just lay there on the floor and the pain is so intense that I am vomiting nothing….dry heaving and my head is swimming and something is seeping out of my nose and I'm not sure what it is but I can hear laughter.

They are standing laughing at me and telling me to get up again but I can't.

The hands are at my neck again and something is being clipped to the collar. "Get up and walk or we will drag you."

My hands hurt my face doesn't feel like it belongs to me anymore and my legs won't cooperate. My brain seems to be the only thing working now and that won't do what I want it to. I want to shout out to Floyd and tell him to stay away. I will be alright….I need him to stay away…but I can't do that either and the pressure is forming on my neck and they are dragging me by the collar and I am sliding over the filth on the floor left by the dogs and if I could I would talk to them…I would tell them what they wanted to know…right now…I would do anything, but it's not going to keep Floyd away and it's not going to bring Ardal back and there – right there is the reason I don't need to keep on…

I feel my body smash against the side of the doorway as they drag me through but it doesn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. I take a deep breath and I can smell grass freshly crushed underfoot and I can hear a river and I can feel my limbs start to jerk and my chest feels like someone had stamped on the inside of it and I realise that I'm not breathing anymore.

-o-o-o-

I know something is wrong.

He was here with me in my mind and in my soul and now he has gone. I look over at Hotchner who is beginning to come round now and up ahead are the gates this van must have come through originally.

"Hotchner. I need you to be a bit more with it now."

But if he hears or not I don't know. I am going to have to do this alone.

There is a dreadful pain in my chest. Something is squeezing down on my heart and trying to make it stop.

"Go away old woman." I know it is her. I can smell the grass. "Spence you need to wake up babes." I don't want it to be like this. It cant be like this.

"Wake up Hotchner." only this time I put my hand on him and shake him hard. His head flops to the side and bangs on the side window. Maybe I should have done that a while back because he is groaning and moving his hands to his face. "Wake up! We need to get him out. I can't do this alone." I hate having to admit I need help, but I don't even know if I am going to be able to walk when I get out of this van.

I've pulled up now and my hand is still resting on his shoulder. He turns he head to look at me and I know he has questions but I'm not in the mood to explain his sore arse right now.

"You need to help me." I say to him, but he is just staring at me. "Spencer is in there." I wave my good arm towards the gates. "I think they've uh – I don't think he is breathing."

And Hotchner is just staring at me.

"I can't do this alone. I've broke my arm and my foots gimp and so some help?"

"What happened?" His voice sounds sleepy and confused. This is good…I can tell him what I want.

"I got you away from the tits who had you drugged and the gods only know what else. How's you feeling?" How hard is it not to laugh? Thinking of Spence pulls me back though. "We need to get a wriggle on Hotchner."

And he nods slowly at me. "It's like a prison complex."

I look over at what he is looking at and I can hear dogs howling and then I can see something which worries me.

"Smoke." I said it under my breath, but I see out of my peripheral vision that H's head has shot around and is looking at what I am looking at. "Furnace smoke."

My hand moves over and rests on H's thigh. "I don't like this. I can't help him if there is nothing left to help." And I know I am squeezing my fingers into his flesh because I need him to know this is bothering me.

If it is bothering me…then he knows this is a problem. I watch him pull himself up in the seat and I see the face he pulls as he feels what has happened to him…what I did to him. I squeeze harder to emphasise the point and feel a hand resting over mine.

"Floyd…please don't do that."

And he is trying to push my hand away.

"Do we drive in or walk?" I ask him…knowing full well that I have ever intention of driving straight to the smoke. "If they plan on burning his body……"

and I let it drift into his mind and conjure up the pictures I need him to see.

I feel his hand leave mine and then I turn to look at him and he is looking back at me and it hits me like a hammer on the back of my head….no…more like a boot in the groin. He smells of sex. He smells of me….well yes he would, but he wants me.

I move my hand so that it travels up his arm and to his shoulder and he is still watching me closely.

"I know what you did to me." He says and it forces me to rise an eyebrow.

"What I did when?" And really I want to ask if he will blow me but we don't have time to be polite here. I look back at the smoke and then at Hotchner and my broken arm is fumbling with my belt and my other is running fingers over his face.

"No." And he takes my hand and moves it. "Drive in there and find Reid."

I know I blink at him. He is telling me what to do and I don't like it, but he is probably right.

Oh ok…he is definitely right. If I force this on him now I might never see Spence again.

………….a sigh……………

and I am moving the van forwards. "Get ready." I say it between gritted teeth as I prepare to smash my way through.

Be honest with my self…I need Spence more than a blow from Hotchner.

…………………..That said:

I wouldn't have turned it down….

And this is what I am thinking as the van smashes through the wire gates….

You know the type I mean…they look tough, and there is a small guard hut next to it…but that's empty…which is good…this means that maybe this facility is not being used as it should be.

I mark the rising smoke and head for it.

"So – how many did you see? How many do I need to uh – eliminate?" And I know he turns to look at me again but he doesn't stare.

"I don't know how many."

He is shaking his head.

"Approx?" A guess would have been nice….shit…a LIE would have been nice…and thinking of nice things he could have blown me while I drove.

"I don't know….maybe half a dozen maybe twenty. Sorry I was not really in a fit state to start counting."

I nod as we turn the corner and see the furnace building in front of us. The main door is open and it is from there that I can hear dogs and it makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck and I think Hotchner felt it too because his hand is suddenly on my arm.

"Wait." He is saying – "You think he is in there?"

I put out my feelers and try to pick up on him with my mind but I will have to get out of the car. I stop the vehicle and push open the door. Now is the time I will find out if my foot is fucked or not.

And yes…it hurts like shit…so I kneel and put my hands to the ground and realise that I can only feel with one of them. "This is such shit!" and Hotchner is at my side.

"What? What's going on?"

I take in the air and yes…it's there…sweet…mouthwateringly sweet…and I think I might have let out a small gasp.

"I can smell him…" and I start to stand and I lean on the side of the van. I could get back in and drive closer or I could walk and pretend I can't feel my ankle bones grinding against each other.

So I look at Hotchner…I can't and I won't show a weakness in front of him and so slowly I start to walk and if I was anyone else it couldn't be done but I am me and I think I might be sick….hang on.

-o-o-o-

I can see he is in trouble. I know something is wrong with him but he isn't about to admit to failure…not in front of me.

Maybe he could to Reid, but not me. I'm more of a threat to him I think. Reid he is comfortable with. Reid he doesn't have to double think everything – he knows him. This is probably why they stay together.

I know Reid is not normal in the conventional sense of the word. I know he has problems with some things in life. Adjusting to Floyd's mood swings and ways just doesn't seem to be one of them. Reid feels safe with this monster and I wish I could offer him that which Floyd does, but I don't think I ever could. It's the reciprocal unconditional need and love they obviously both have even though I think they would both deny that.

Floyd is out of the car but on his knees and he is feeling the ground, but I can see that one of his hands is wrong and I can see he is 'wrong'…something is not right with him.

When he finally stands I see also that he is standing wrong. There is something wrong with his leg (?) or foot maybe…I won't be able to tell until he moves but he isn't standing in that – how to say it – self assured manner he usually assumes. He is favouring one leg over the other and as he walks I can see there is something very wrong and this is likely why he needed me with him.

As he falls down to his knees and he is coughing and vomiting I know that things are not going to be as straight forward as he would want it to be and as I stupidly imagined it would be.

Quickly I am at his side and I can see the sweat on his brow and the way he is shaking and he is saying something to me but it's words caught between spitting and vomiting and coughing.

"Help him – get him – out of – there."

He is reaching for one of his hand rolled smokes and I take a step back. I have no gun. I have nothing to fight with and so I am looking around for something and he is lighting up and I can hear him take deep drags.

"Drive."

I hear him and I move to the van….and for a few seconds I watch him and wonder if he is coming to the van too, but he is curling up on the ground making sounds like a wounded animal.

-o-o-o-

A deep long drag and I feel a lot better. I can hear the van moving away. He will draw attention and I can hopefully get in by him.

And so we are on our way…and I really don't know what I am going to see when we get there. I draw on every ounce of anything I have left to keep up with the van which screams away and towards the furnace. There is no smell of burning flesh.

This is the thing keeping me going. There is a smell of blood, but not – no not Spencer's and there is a smell of fear and piss and sweat and – what can only be described as defeat….and that is – yes that is the smell of Spencer, but he's not dead…he's just not alive either…

"Old woman – you cant have him yet."

And I get a reply "I don't want him."

And this is good. She is keeping him safe and I can calm down again.

Ardal – it is his blood and death with I can smell so strongly. They killed Ardal and this is something I hadn't really expected… but right now there is nothing I can do to help him. Not yet. Spencer first…

I need him.

I need Spencer like I need blood.

As the van stops I walk around the back of it and through the doorway and into the small furnace room.

There are four guys in here….that's fine…

It's the six dogs I'm not so keen on seeing. I've never got on with dogs. I don't like them. They don't like me….mutual understanding and avoidance from both parties.

The dogs are watching me and I am ignoring them and looking for Spencer.

"At last."

I hear the voice from behind me.

"You took your time."

And I turn to look and there is Spencer and he is hanging from a collar and I can see he is gone from here for now…I can see the light gone from his open eyes and I can see how he hangs from a wide collar around his neck from a hook in the wall. I take in the way he is barefoot and his toes look bruised and his face is swollen how it does when you are killed by hanging…and I can feel that it was slow…and I can feel the way they drained him of his life to lure me here…and it worked.

Someone has placed a wire around my neck and I just stand and let them do it.

Come one Hotchner….save the day…show us what you're made of….

I cant take my eyes off Spencer. I want to touch him and lick him and have him….I want to take him and bite him and violate him and something flies by me and someone is screaming and

………………I think……………..but I can't be sure…………..small arms fire………..and someone is touching me and pulling me away……..

but I can't take my eyes off Spencer.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25 Choices

Chapter 25

Choices

_I believe that we are solely responsible for our choices, and we have to accept the consequences of every deed, word, and thought throughout our lifetime: - __Elisabeth Kubler-Ross _

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine

* * *

I am suddenly pulled back to now by the thing around my neck again. Someone is garrotting me….and this is the one thing I don't want to happen right now. I can't take my eyes off Spencer though and my stomach is twisting in knots at the vision and I am licking my lips and I can feel blood running down the side of my neck and it is this which finally pulls me back once more to the reality of the situation.

My fingers are pulling at the wire which is tightening but there's not much I can do to stop it now. There's not enough room to get my fingers behind it and I can feel my neck is slippery. If I turn I will just assist in slicing my own head off.

And I cant take my eyes off Spencer. Someone has knocked against him and he is swinging slowly and I need to hold him but this sodding wire around my neck is stopping me.

………….crap………….

Everything is going wrong…………

……….I need to …………get this off me……….

-o-o-o-

It was a mess. There were people and dogs everywhere. Guns being fired and blood squirting in various directions.

Hotch started to moved towards Reid when he caught his image out of the corner of his eye. He thought for a split second that maybe Reid was just standing there. Somehow but he knew really that he was just going into a denial. He could see that Floyd had stopped moving but his mind now was focused on Reid. If that was Reid.

And he knew it was. He knew that body.

That form hanging there like a bit of butchers meat ready to be stuffed into the furnace.

Hotch moved forwards again as something brushed against the back of his legs and moved quickly in front of him. At first he thought it was a dog. He didn't even give it another thought that maybe it wasn't.

"Don't."

And dogs don't talk.

Sam moved in the way and put his hands out placing them on Hotch's chest. "Don't. He's gone. Go help my dad"

-o-o-o-

Slowly I looked down at the hands pushing back on my chest. I didn't want to take my eyes off the horrific vision hanging in front of me but the child was forcing me back and shouting at me.

"He's gone. Go help my dad."

A child's pleading voice asking for help that I wasn't sure I could give him. I felt this was my fault. I should have left him where he was. I should have kept away from him….but I can't…I couldn't then and I can't now.

I push Sam off me and away from me. I don't want Flanders on me and Sam is Flanders.

"I can't help him." I tell him. It's more of a 'I won't help him.' but Sam is a child. How can I tell him that? Slowly I walk towards him. A dog has rushed by and knocked his feet and he is swinging slowly and it makes me want to scream but I can't even do that…all I can do is walk forward and lift my hand to touch him.

I know…I know that he is gone. I can see he has. All that time I thought he had when he was being – tortured? Hurt? And I couldn't help him, and now I can – now that I am running my finger over his chest – now it's still.

Dead things…they – I don't…….

………….I don't like to touch dead things. I should have my gloves on. We need to preserve the evidence. I shouldn't touch him. I need to stop running my fingers over his bruised ribs. I need to stop looking at the mess on his body. I need to remove the images of Reid's final degradation, and I don't know why they did this to him. What was it he did which deserved this treatment.

My hands have reached up and they have moved around his back and I can feel his ribs…some of them broken under my fingers and carefully I stand closer and I can smell him. I can smell his sweat and his fear and I know I am crying but I don't know for how long. I lift him off the hook he has been hung from and carefully I lower him to the floor. My hands are shaking but they manage to find the buckle on the collar around his neck and I pull it away from him and look a the deep black marks wrapping their way around his neck and I am kneeling down holding his hands in mine and water is dripping from my eyes and falling on his still chest. His too thin body. That body I had seen so many times with the towel wrapped around it. Smelling of sweet soap. Smelling of how Reid should smell. His face is broken. His jaw looks broken. His eyes are swollen and glued shut by blood and goo. He has a thick dark yellow scab around his nose and blood dried in the corners of his mouth. It doesn't look like him any more. I wouldn't know it was him if not for that mole above his eyebrow. I run my finger over it and look down for the one on his neck, but it is gone…covered over with dried blood and bruises and I think I let out a small moan of despair, or it might have been the sound of my soul being ripped out of me and being trampled on.

"I'm so sorry." And I lean right in and say the words in his ear. I don't want him not to hear them.

-o-o-o-

I know the feeling. It's not unknown to me – but it really could have come at a better time.

Watching Hotchner with Spencer makes me want to scream. I want to be the one there with him. I want him…I need him…so desperately that the tightening of the wire around my neck has stopped being something I am concerned about.

Gut shots hurt though. No matter who you are. When something rips into your stomach and tears at your insides it hurts and it caused me to take a step back. The thing around my neck is looser though. Maybe they let go…..no….It's a through and through – a double gut shot. Nice.

……….is that?

Uh…..something else….and it's my chest.

Falling down to my knees I want to look at Spencer. I need to make sure that Hotch is keeping him safe.

I've put one of my hands to the side of my neck. There is a hell of a lot of blood coming from there and I can feel the wire embedded into my flesh. It's going to be alright. I've put a hand on my stomach, but something is going wrong. I think the shot had nicked my spine or something because my legs don't want to let me stand up. It's fine. Everything is going to be fine. If I can get to Spence. If I can reach him, but it feels like I am sliding backwards and though I am reaching out for Spencer or Hotchner everything is getting further away.

A pain on the side of my head.

Someone has hit me with something and now they are pulling me. Dragging me and suddenly it falls into place. It's not Spence they have the furnace stoked up ready for…and I want to kick out at them but my legs aren't working…and I want to get them off me, but I am being hit in the face again and this time I see what it is….

-o-o-o-

They have my dad…and I don't know what to do….Lots of guns have been fired and I'm trying to keep out of the way, but I can't just stand and watch them hurt my dad like that.

I don't know –

………..why doesn't he get up….

"DAD!" I shout his name as I see what they are going to do. It's a shovel….the thing they put the coal in the furnace with and they are crashing it down…like they are chopping at his neck and face with it….with the sharp edge of it….

And it looks like they are trying to take his head off…and I can see the furnace and I can see Spencer and Hotchner and it's going very very wrong.

I can see dad's body jerk as they bash him with the shovel and though I've been told by the guys to keep back…I need to help him…he's my dad and Rosa will bloody kill me too if I let anything happen to him.

Funny though…I can sense what he is feeling so well…because I am him and he is me….so in the end it doesn't matter….

……….unless I fag out too…then it will matter…and I mean by that 'fag' comment that I wimp out…not that I start wanting arse….I might only look like a fekking ten year old but believe me….

Arse

They are dragging him towards the furnace. They are going to burn him and that can't happen….Where the hell is the fucking cavalry? Why are they not helping my dad?

What did he ever do to deserve this?

OK…snort of a chuckle there…he probably deserves this….I am grabbing his arm….it's dragging behind him…his right arm…not his left…I don't want to be pulling his hand off….he won't be too pleased if I do that.

"Let go of my dad!" I am shouting and they are kicking at me, but they don't realise that I will kill anyone who hurts my dad anymore than he already is.

Yes I am stronger than the average kid, much stronger but my body mass just isn't sufficient at this point to fight off all these people and I can feel my dad being dragged away from me as hands grab me and pull at me and they are shouting words at me but I can't hear them because I have decided to scream like a girl and let rip.

I shout for help. I can feel my grip going as he is pulled closer to the furnace and they have started smacking him again and suddenly it's

ALL CHANGE

The cavalry have arrived and there is that dark bloke and he runs to Hotchner who shouts something at him and he turns and looks at me and frowns fleetingly and I am screaming still trying to get attention over here because once my dad is in that furnace it's over and Rosa will kill me if I survive this.

-o-o-o-

They released me from the hospital with painkillers and something to rub in which I definitely will do. Right now the pain is a dull throbbing but I can disregard that now I can see and hear what the hell is going on.

Hotch has Reid. Good

Good good…that's got to be good except it doesn't look like Reid is moving.

The kid…that demon spawn is making the most god-awful racket known to man; I didn't know kids could make that much noise.

I always consider it bad….very bad when Floyd is down and out…and that's what it looks like. My gun is in my hand and I will - so help me god take the head off any man who threatens my friends.

Flanders isn't a friend and nor is the kid, but he is Reid's and this is why the gun just bucked in my hand and why the guy pulling at the kid just fell back and away with a hole in his chest.

"FBI! Drop your weapons." I shout it a bit too late really but I don't think I'm heard over the screams and wailings going on and the dogs….the barking of the dogs, but they don't seem to be attacking. They are keeping back…

This place has a hot smell to it….I don't now if that makes sense but it smells hot. How I would imagine hell to smell. Blast furnace hot and I can see they are dragging Flanders towards the doors of the oven and that doesn't bother me but I know – I know it would destroy Reid.

……….this isn't an action I would take normally…but these aren't normal circumstances. They have picked that damned kid up off the floor…they have dragged him off Flanders who doesn't seem to be doing much but bleeding all over the place….and it's like in slow motion….and I need to stop it….I can see what they are going to do and I lift my sidearm up and I am shouting again – "FBI! ON YOUR FACE!" and I know it will make no difference and I watch as the momentum starts and I can see they are going to throw the kid into the open doors of that huge furnace.

The gun bucks in my hands again.

And again……………………………

….and I hope I'm not too late. The child is being thrown still but not with the accuracy you would have if you still had all of your head. The child smashes head first against the iron walls of the huge oven and I heard the cracking smashing sound and suddenly there is silence.

But there shouldn't be. I can see the dogs barking but I seem to have been sucked into a slow moving world with no sound.

It's like I am walking in mud or treacle and I can see people shouting and I can see Hotch is saying something but my brain has decided it was an overload.

A hand on my shoulder makes me jump and spin and there is Rossi standing there looking worried and he is taking the gun from my hand and smiling at me and reassuring me that this is alright….

But it's not…..

It's not right.

I turn and look around me at the carnage…

Hotch is still with Reid and he is rocking back and forth and he is holding Reid's hands…

……….And I can't look because I know what has happened there and I don't know what to do or how to react to any of this….and tears of anger are building up.

Floyd is still unmoving and I bite on my bottom lip as Rossi walks over to him and is bending down over him with a hand on his chest and I know he is feeling for the rise and fall of breaths and all I can see is blood…….too much blood around Flanders……so my eyes are now on the boy and I can see the dogs moving in towards him and it's that which propels me into motion again.

I'm suddenly crouching on the floor next to the boy and I can't remember walking here but I can see my hand dark against his white skin and I am touching the side of his face.

"Sam." My voice I can hear it in my head but I don't know if I make a sound and I don't know if Sam would hear me anyway….His neck is at a funny angle and I can see blood coming from the corner of his mouth….

My hand moves to his neck….and I feel for a pulse.

"Crap…..Are there medics on the way?" But still I don't know if I can be heard so I say it again and in my head I am screaming but I still don't know if they can hear me.

A hand again….Rossi again…..and he is leading me away………….

……………getting me away from all of this……….and he is saying something to me but I can't hear him.

Flanders….I stop and I look down at him…..but Rossi pulls me away…. I need to see Reid…..I need to see Hotch but again I am pulled away from them and out of the building and as though a curse has been lifted the sound comes back.

I turn to Rossi who still has my arm. "I don't know." Are his words ….my question didn't need to be asked. "Stay here. Take the air….wait for the medics…show them where we are."

I nod and watch Rossi walk back into the building and I rub angrily at my eyes. They killed a child and I watched and couldn't stop them.

-o-o-o-

I can smell the grass and I can hear the water and for a second it feels like I can't breathe but it comes back to me in big gulps and I am able to roll over on the grass and look around me.

I have been here before.

And so I look for landmarks…or faces I might recognise and I see the old woman who was here before….before when I was with Floyd – and she is walking over to me. I try to get up but my body doesn't want to do what I am telling it to.

"Don't worry." She says to me and sits crossed legged in the grass with me. "You broke your neck…..it will take awhile to fix."

My hands want to go to my neck by they wont obey the commands I am giving them. "My neck?"

I can't remember what happened. I can't remember what it was that brought me here this time.

"It was a long time ago Spencer. You will get better. You need to repair. These things take time."

I want to know where Floyd is. I don't know why I am here alone. Not alone…with this old woman…

"Just relax and close your eyes Spencer." And her hands drift over my face and I find that my eyes are closing and my breathing is deeper and I am falling asleep.

-o-o-o-

Well fuck me and call me Floyd….back here again.

I can see her sitting on the grass and she is with Spence.

As I walk over she looks up at me and it looks like she has aged a million years since I last saw her.

"You are making a habit of this." She is stroking the back of Spencer's head. "He needs you." And I kneel down next to him and put my hand on his back. He has on a thin white shirt and what looks to be hospital pyjamas. I bite on my bottom lip and look up at her.

"There is a catch."

And she is nodding and I knew it. I take my hand away from Spencer and look into her eyes.

"Sam." Is all she says. And my soul screams.

"I don't have to choose."

But she is nodding. "You do need to choose." And I can see his buttocks against the thin fabric of the pyjamas and my body is shouting demands out at me.

"Sam is me….Sam is my immortality."

And she is nodding…. "So tell me what Spencer is."

I lean forwards and breathe in his scent. "Spencer…..he is my ……………" but I don't know what he is….my love? What I lust after? What exactly is he? "How can I choose my child or my love? How?" And I am standing up now….

"I will leave you with him…..You have time to decide." And she also is standing and walking backwards and she seems to drift away and disappear into a mist which wasn't there before and it reminds me of a very bad B movie….and I think of Ed Wood and I smile and run my hand over my face and my chest and down to the front of my trousers….

"Spence." and I lay down on the grass with him and I push him onto his side so he can see me and I can see that beautiful face. "Hey babes – I'm sorry I was too late."

And he smiles at me and licks his lips and his mouth is on mine and his tongue is searching for a way in and his hands are all over me and mine all over him and

…

how can I choose?

So I roll over and show him my back…and he takes up the invitation and makes love to me….I think that's what it was…It wasn't just lazy rough sex…it was painful and wonderful and he dug in his fingernails and bit down with his teeth and pushed into me and kissed and licked and gave himself to me completely….

How the hell could I have wondered how to choose?

* * *


	26. Chapter 26 Found

Chapter 26

Found

_It's not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have __found__ it._

**A/N: for PoRM**

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds is not mine.

* * *

I wasn't sure at first when they contacted me….when Garcia found me, why they had.

There was a horrible feeling in my heart that something had happened. Something bad had happened. Worse than the Hankel thing. Worse – and that nearly finished him… That nearly destroyed him. So what could be worse? I didn't want to think about it and Garcia didn't want to talk about it on the phone. She sounded stuffed up. A cold.

She had been crying.

Obviously I packed a bag – I packed it over a year ago and it's still there waiting. I knew one day the call would come and though in a way I was expecting it I still wasn't prepared. Not inside. Not where my soul resides.

I'm sitting looking – pretending to look – out of the window of the small plane I have caught to take me back to Virginia. I am looking at my reflection. I am looking at the worry lines around my eyes and the glimmer of tears, but I won't cry. Not yet…not until I have said my final goodbye because that is what this is all about.

I have to say goodbye.

A few glasses of something to calm my nerves.

I'm not nervous though…It is something else…something deep and painful and I don't want to admit that it's guilt. If I admit that I ran off and left him when he most needed me…if I let my heart know that then I can't do this.

And now here I am standing outside a hospital. I've been here before. I've stood here before. Looking up at the big dark windows it suddenly feels less a place of healing and more of a tomb and I still don't know what to expect and I don't know who else will be there, or if anyone will be there and I need to know…I need to prepare myself.

How selfish am I?

I have been standing here now for a few hours just staring up at the windows….behind one of them is the bleeping of machinery keeping Spencer alive. No – I know I haven't been told that, but I can see of no other reason Garcia would have called me back. No other reason she couldn't talk to me about it on the phone and no other reason why his address has been a hospital for the past two months.

Why do hospital elevators always suddenly feel too small and too hot as soon as you step into them? I keep running my fingers through my hair but I don't think in the long run that any amount of finger combing is going to prepare me for what I am going to be faced with.

The doors are sliding open and for some reason I am still standing here clinging hold of the rail running along at waist height around the elevator car. I don't start to move until the doors begin their slow slide shut again and then I am moving and putting my foot in the way and finally I am standing in a white corridor and I think I might pass out.

Why is it so hot?

Why is there no air?

Walking slowly to the reception counter and a pretty young blond thing is smiling up at me. Really I want to scream at her. 'How can you smile!' but I don't.

I take a deep breath.

"Jason Gideon. I am here to see Spencer Reid."

And like magic the smile has frozen then slowly is slides away and her mouth opens. "We have been expecting you. How much do you know?"

Know? Know about what? I shake my head and my hair is being combed with my fingers again.

"I will get the doctor to talk to you before you see him. Take a seat Mr Gideon. I will be about two minutes."

She's watching me. She doesn't want to leave me alone. This is getting worse. Every minute that passes it gets worse and sitting down isn't really what I want to be doing right now but I do anyway and now my hands are on my knees and my fingers are digging in through my faded blue jeans.

"Jason Gideon?" I hear my name and look up. "I am Mr LaFeyette. I am Spencer's consultant." I am nodding at him like I knew that already.

"I …." But I don't get to finish what I was going to say.

"Spencer is sleeping. He has been in a deep coma since he was brought in. Some of his injuries have repaired over the time he has been with us, but – the damage was extensive."

And I am nodding again and I want to stop. "I don't know what happened….what happened to him."

The consultant does a hard understanding smile at me. "He was tortured. He had multiple breaks. Including his neck. He was resuscitated. It's unsure how long he had been deprived of oxygen. We don't know….we are not expecting him to wake."

And he is passing me something and at first I don't know what it is and then I look and see a tissue and I can feel the hot wet tears on my face. "I see." Is all I manage to say.

"He was brought in with some friends. I don't know if you wish to see them also?"

And now I am confused. Friends? Other team members? "Who?"

"A Floyd Flanders and a child Sam Trent-Saviour."

I know Floyd…obviously I know Floyd….anyone who has ever had anything to do with Spencer's personal life knows of Floyd but I don't know who Sam is.

"Floyd is here?"

"Again Sir…We aren't expecting him to wake. The damage to his – he has extensive brain damage."

And again – damnit…I am nodding.

"I don't know Sam." And now I am wiping at my eyes again.

"He is Floyd's son. He also has brain and neck injuries." The man stood. "I will take you to see Spencer first."

And I stand and frown. "I don't wish to see anyone else. Just Spencer."

"It would be nice…you know to visit the others…they have had no visitors."

I push the tissue into my pocket.

"There is very likely a reason for that." And now I am following the guy down the corridor to see Spencer and I have a horrible feeling I know what is going to happen. I was next of kin for a long time. Until Floyd took that role….I know what they are going to ask me and I want to turn around and go home and not have to face this.

-o-o-o-

I come here once a week.

I dust…and I put flowers in a vase and I wonder if I will ever be able to do this and think 'Tomorrow he will be home.' But the longer he stays so deep and away from us the more unlikely it is going to happen.

I know Gideon is going to visit him today and so I am keeping away. He will ask too many questions that I wont be able to answer.

I still see him every time I close my eyes. I wake up screaming out his name. My throat hurts from the shouting…my eyes are sore from the crying and still he is there hanging and swinging slowly with no life left in him….

And the image shifts to the medics running in and pulling him away from me and stuffing tubes in his throat….his trachea was crushed. His neck broken…his bones snapped. I can't imagine the pain he must have been in before his body decided to close down.

Looking down at his floor I can see I have dripped water on his wooden flooring. I blink at it hoping it will go away. I don't want Floyd to see it and again my heart skips a beat. They tried to take his head off. His spine is shattered. His face destroyed and still he clings hold of life for some reason and the only reason I can think of is for Reid.

I need to wipe away the water drips on the floor. I need to keep everything perfect. Flowers in the vase. Coffee brewing. Books dusted and another one chosen to read to him as I sit and wait and look at that mole above his eyebrow and the ones on his neck and chest and I wonder where he is….where his mind has slipped off to and I know Floyd is in the next room to him and Sam the one next to that, and I haven't been to see them. I can't face that too. I know if Spencer awakens and Floyd isn't there for him he will slip back again.

I pour myself a coffee. I like to think that his apartment smells like it should. Slowly I walk to his bedroom and I stand in the doorway and look at his bed made up for when he comes home and I know deep down that it will never happen. Even if he wakes up….he was dead – I held him in my arms as he died and there is no coming back from that….not as you were.

Suddenly I need to get out of his apartment. The smells are over whelming me. The thoughts are making my head spin and I just want to go home and be with Rosie who – god bless her – has stuck with me through this…

I make sure the drapes are closed and I make sure the coffee machine is off and I set the alarm and leave the place behind.

Next time – I have decided….will be the last time. I won't bring fresh flowers….I will save the flowers for the grave.

-o-o-o-

Another session sitting in the stuffy room on the over stuffed couch talking about every thing but the one thing I need to.

I have talked about Reid. I have discussed the loss I am feeling in great depth. Knowing that the machines are there keeping him breathing and monitoring his heart is somehow worse. I can't grieve for him.

I talked in length about how it felt watching the medics work on him. Seeing the looks on their faces and knowing full well that there wasn't really any coming back from this. He was dead. Hotch was holding his hands and he was dead.

But they didn't give up. I watched as he bucked on the floor as they put the paddles on his chest. I watched them cut their way into him so they could get him breathing…I watched them look at watches and shake heads and I saw them try again. Needles being slipped under his skin. Lights shone in his eyes and the shaking of heads.

I don't know what Hotch said to them. I could see his mouth moving but there was too much going on….too many people to hear what the quiet words where and I have never asked. But they tried again.

And again…and the longer it took the less likely it was that even if they got his heart started that he would ever wake up. Two months ago now….two months of visiting every day and nearly nine weeks of having to walk past the other two rooms.

"You have something on your mind Derek?"

Stupid question. "That's why I come here." I snapped back…and I am cross that I snapped at him….he's trying to help me and if I wont talk to him he's going to find that difficult.

"Have you been to see Spencer today?" He is squished down into a big armchair and he is sucking on a mint.

I nod at him. "But…."

"That's not the problem." He knows…so why is he asking me.

"I need to talk about something else."

And he nods because he knows. He knows that there is something else. "I couldn't help him. I didn't want to help him…I hesitated."

"Spencer?" he takes off his wire rimmed glasses and cleans them on a little yellow cloth he takes from his breast pocket on his black suit.

"Sam – a kid. I hesitated because I don't like his father and he – he is – going to die as well. They smashed his brains in…and broke his neck….a kid…and that is my fault. I didn't want to help him because of his father."

"Talk to me about Sam's father."

And that's exactly what I'm not willing to talk about. I shake my head slowly and I feel too hot and I wish I had kept the chat to Spencer….I know where I am there…this other stuff is too confusing.

"Why didn't you want to help him…what did his father do?"

I stand up and look around the room. I need something to take my mind off it…I need something to take those damned images out of my head. Reid hanging by his neck…Flanders getting his head hacked off…Sam laying with his neck all wrong…and that feeling of absolute silence.

"He – abused Spencer." I blurt it out quickly. Maybe if I say it fast enough it will all be over with.

"In what way?"

"Sexual – emotional – physical…any way you can."

"He raped him?"

And I am standing in front of the counsellor and I want to tear his face off for saying that and for bringing that rawness back out in the open where the flies can land and infect it.

"He is a monster." And it comes out as a whisper. I wanted to shout it but it won't come out because there are too many tears.

"So you failed to protect his child because he hurt someone you love?"

I lean on the wall and my hands cover my face. I am disgusted with myself. I let a child die because I was jealous of his father's relationship with Reid. What does that make me?

Sitting on the floor now with my knees up tight and my face still covered and I am screaming and crying and howling and I don't think it's ever going to end.

The arm around me is poor comfort. I don't want to be comforted. I let a child die….because I couldn't stand seeing him…those eyes looking like his father…his spite being too much like his father. I hesitated.

I permit the arm to stay there though.

"He's not dead? He is in hospital?"

I nod…and I my mind I can see the door I walk by everyday.

"Have you been to see him?"

The thought makes me want to be sick. "How can I!" I move my hands from my face. "It's my fault!"

"Derek – had you not been there…what would have happened to everyone. Would Spencer be walking around? Would they boy's father be playing ball in the park with his boy?"

I swallow and look into his eyes. "No….no Sam…they were going to throw the boy into a – into a furnace."

"And you stopped that from happening by being there?"

I nod.

"Then you gave the boy a chance he wouldn't have normally have had."

I nod again.

"And you need to go and visit him…and his father. Both of them….take someone with you…your friend Penelope….take her with you."

And I sigh…and I bite on my bottom lip. "Closure?"

And now he nods.

-o-o-o-

I can wiggle my toes today but I don't think anyone saw.

Yesterday I thought about opening my eyes but I can't do that…not sure why…

Was Hotch here? I think I can smell him in the air…but I'm not smelling much really…but it smells like he was here.

Apple shampoo and this aftershave.

Are my eyes bleeding?

I don't know if it is blood or tears. I can't tell.

Floyd's not been here. I don't know why. I need to feel his hands on me. I need that comfort. That security but no one touches me but the nurses when the bath me and massage my muscles and they talk to me like I can't hear them.

They were saying about someone coming to see me – how it will be good.

They said he will turn the machines off…but I don't know what they mean by that.

Someone explain that to me please! I don't understand…

I am on life support?

They are going to turn my oxygen off?

They are going to kill me?

Oh god please help me…someone see I can move…I can smell…give me the chance please. I can get over this. Watch me….I will move my fingers…

Did anyone see that? Did you see me move…

Please don't turn my air off…

Whoever it is coming to see me….a consultant to check on me…he will know…he will see…I will open my eyes but I think there is tape over them…Cant they see I am getting better?

Floyd? Can you hear me?

Someone is touching me…and I try again to open my eyes to see who it is but I can't. It is a hand resting over mine and so I try to move my fingers again and I am sure I am but I don't know if the hand felt it.

Now it is on my forehead and it is wiping stray hairs off my face and then the person talks to me.

"Spencer." Just the one word and I scream….but I don't think anyone can hear me. It's Gideon. He is here. There is only one reason he would be here….

"I know you probably can't hear me and in a way I hope you can't. I've just come in to say my goodbyes." And a mouth gently touches my forehead.

Please god no – don't turn off my machines…don't let me die.

I can hear movement around my bed but I don't know what it is they are doing.

The voices are too quiet for me to hear but there are lots of them now…suddenly it seems as though the room is full and I try again to see what is going on and I have a horrible idea I know what it is.

-o-o-o-

Gideon is here and they are gathering.

I don't believe this is happening. This can't be.

"Please…Jason." I put my hand on his shoulder from behind. "We need to give him more time. We need to get Floyd in here."

He turns and looks at me. "There is nothing more they can do Aaron. I have been through everything with them. I've looked at the scans and the MRI's he is too badly damaged."

I am shaking my head. "No…he needs Floyd in here. I know it will help him."

I see him look up at the consultant who has his hands resting over the buttons…it's like an execution. I can't watch this…I can't see him die over and over again like this…

"This is partly Flanders fault. Why are you defending him?"

I shake my head. "I'm not defending him Jason and you know full well I'm not. I know this is all about your own guilt and I wont permit you to take it out on Reid."

He pauses. He looks at Spencer and he looks at the doctor who is looking at all of us at the same time.

He shakes his head. "He's right – Floyd should be here. We might not like it but if Spencer loves him….if that is what it is…if it will help him…"

I watch Jason turn away and leave the room. We stand in stunned silence and then the consultant and some doctors walk from the room.

"What's going on?" Prentiss is sitting on a chair and I don't think I've ever seen her look so sick…even after all that happened…she looks like a drug addict and I decide it is something I need to ask….I don't want to make that mistake again and I turn and walk over to Spencer.

"They are bringing Floyd in. I don't know if he will be staying…he is very poorly – but I think you need each other."

-o-o-o-

I'm locked in this fucking darkness and I can't get out….every time I try to move something is pulling me back down again….

I've looked for Spence….I thought I had made my choice. I thought you bloody understood…you can't leave me with nothing! How long is this going to take?

It feels like the ground is moving but I'm stuck on my back and I can't move even my hands and this is so not right that I want to scream and tear someone's heart out…

Is it because I chose the wrong one?

Am I being punished for making a choice?

Why give me the choice if you are going to do this to me?

I open my eyes but it's all just darkness….some shadows in the background and whispered voices.

And the movement has stopped and my eyes are searching out for what just happened but I still cant see anything and I cant work out why it is all so dark.

A hand.

A hand touches mine and I know that hand…I've had that hand touch me before.

Hotchner.

Agent Aaron Hotchner is holding my hand and squeezing it gently and I finally hear a voice ….he is talking directly into my ear.

"Help him…show him you are here." He says to me and now I feel a different hand….and I know this one too…

Spence.

After all this time at long bloody last and I wrap my fingers tightly around his and I think I have tears but it might be because of the bright lights and I squeeze his hand tightly and he wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes back.

* * *

**A/N: To be carried on in new fic….thank you all for R&Ring!!**

**LT special thanks to you for all the support…very very appreciated!**

**Pb**

**Tin**

**XOX**


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